Ex  Libris 
C.  K.  OGDEN 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


WITH  SYLVIA  CLOSE   BEHIND  HER."-/'a</<;  S3. 


LITTLE  HOMESPUN 


RUTH  OGDEN 

(MRS.  CHARLES  W.  IDE.) 

ithorof"A  Loyal  Little  Red-Coat  "  "A  Little  Queen  of  Hearts* 
"  His  Little  Royal  Highness"  "  Courage"  etc. 


WITH  NUMEROUS  ORIGINAL   ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

MABEL  HUMPHREY, 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1897 
BY  FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


7 


ONE  MOMENT  PLEASE. 


In  a  way,  this  book,  "  Little  Homespun,"  is  a 
story  quite  by  itself.  In  another  way  it  is  a 
sequel  to  "  Courage,"  although  you  can  "  catch  its 
thread  "  without  having  read  a  line  of  "  Cour- 
age." Now  some  grown  people,  and  I  presume 
some  children,  do  not  care  for  sequels  at  all,  but 
I  happen  to  know  that  the  children  who  are 
good  enough  to  read  and  care  for  my  stories 
are  fond  of  sequels.  Those  who  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  write  me,  in  little  letters  that  are  worth 
their  weight  in  gold  many  times  over,  almost  in- 
variably ask  for  another  book  about  the  same 
people.  Sometimes  they  tell  me  just  what  to  put 
into  the  new  story  and  what  name  to  give  it. 
So  here  lies  my  excuse  if  one  is  needed  for  writ- 
ing "  Little  Homespun."  Besides,  I  could  hardly 
help  it,  for  there  seemed  to  be  quite  a  little  yet  to 
tell  about  Courage  and  Sylvia,  and  some  new  lit- 
tle friends  of  theirs.  And  one  thing  more — 


1075378 


LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

everything  in  this  story  that  has  to  do  with  real 
people  or  actual  events  is  absolutely  true  ;  a  lit- 
tle book,  named  "  Historic  Arlington,"  giving 
most  of  the  information  needed.  Even  old  black 
Joe  has  his  counterpart  in  Wesley  Morris,  one  of 
the  slaves  of  Mr.  Custis,  born  on  the  estate,  and 
employed  for  many  years  following  the  war  as  a 
workman  about  the  grounds  at  Arlington. 

"  RUTH  OGDEN." 

"  Oakdene" 

Sept.  i,  1897. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I. —  Two  Old  Cronies,     ...  i 

II.— Courage  Takes  Heart,  .              .13 

III. — A  Delightful  Discovery.       .  .              23 

IV.— Everybody  Happy,         .  .             .29 

V.—Hoivdy,  38 

VI. — Arlington  Before  the  War,  .             .       48 

VII. — Arlington  Afterward,         .  64 

VIII.—  To  Save  Brevet,            .  .             -77 

IX. — Joe  has  an  Idea,     .  97 

X. — Brevet  Scores  a  Point,  .             •      i°5 

XI.— A  Red- Letter  Afternoon,     .  .           113 


LITTLE  HOMESPUN 


|>        CHAPTER  I. 

%'._     TWO  OLD  CRONIES. 

JUNE    morning, 
clear   and  cool 
T  as  October,  and 

everything  far  and  near  fairly  revelling  in  the 
early  summer  sunshine.  The  Potomac,  blue 
as  the  sky  above  it,  sparkling  and  dancing, 
the  new  young  leaves  on  the  oak  trees  shim- 
mering and  shining  with  the  marvellous  green 
of  springtime,  and  the  dear  old  Virginia  home- 
stead, overhanging  the  river,  never  looking 


2  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

more  homelike  and  attractive  in  all  its  quiet 
life.  The  reason  for  this  did  not  lie  all  in  the 
sunshine  either.  Just  outside  the  door,  on  the 
wide  gallery,  a  darling  old  lady  sat  knitting, 
for  as  darling  means  "  dearly  beloved,"  no 
other  word  could  so  truly  describe  her.  Every- 
body worshipped  her  and  regarded  her — as 
well  they  might — with  unspeakable  devotion  ; 
for  darling  old  ladies,  as  you  very  well  know,  do 
not  grow  on  every  bush — quite  to  the  contrary 
— a  great  many  old  ladies  (bless  their  tired  old 
hearts  !)  grow  fretful  and  nervous  and  fussy, 
and  are  hard  to  please,  not  to  say  cranky. 
But  who  would  blame  them  for  this  for  a 
minute?  Just  as  likely  as  not  you  and  I  will 
be  cranky  enough  ourselves,  when-  we  have 
borne  the  burden  of  fourscore  years,  and  are 
pretty  well  worn  out  in  mind  and  spirit  and 
body.  But  here  was  an  old  lady  who  was  not 
worn  out.  Her  hair  was  white  with  "the  in- 
comparable whiteness  of  aged  hair,"  and  there 
were  the  indelible  marks  of  age  on  the  sweet, 
earnest  face,  but  this  dear  old  lady  was 
"sunny."  She  had  had  her  own  full  share  of 
sorrows  and  worries,  and  she  had  taken  them 
all  very  much  to  heart — as  people  must  whose 
hearts  are  big  enough  to  take  things  to  at  all — 
and  as  tender  as  hearts  really  ought  to  be. 
But  somehow  or  other,  she  had  learned  the 


AND  COLONEL  ANDERSON    BEGAN   HIS  STORY."— rage  54. 


TWO  OLD  CRONIES.  3 

secret  of  not  being  overcome  by  the  worries 
and  the  sorrows,  and  so,  sitting  there  knitting 
that  peerless  June  morning,  she  and  the  sun- 
shine together  seemed  to  glorify  everything 
about  them. 

Presently  a  little  specimen  appeared  in  the 
doorway  ;  a  handsome  little  fellow  too,  though 
he  did  not  have  any  curls,  as  most  children  do 
who  find  their  way  into  story  books,  but  his 
hair  was  golden,  and,  though  cut  quite  short, 
as  he  insisted  upon  having  it,  had  a  little  trick 
of  straying  down  on  his  forehead  in  quite  irre- 
sistible fashion. 

"  Well,  what  are  we  going  to  do  to-day  ?  " 
said  his  grandmother,  gazing  at  him  as  fondly 
as  only  fond  grandmothers  can.  In  response 
the  little  fellow  merely  pointed  to  two  straps 
of  gold  braid  upon  his  shoulders,  and  looked 
as  though,  really  "  grand;/«na "  should  have 
known  better  than  to  ask. 

"  Oh  !  beg  pardon,  Brevet,  I  was  so  intent 
upon  my  knitting  I  had  not  noticed,"  and  she 
succeeded  in  foiling  a"  smile  that  would  at  least 
have  proved  annoying:  for,  as  every  one  about 
the  place  knew,  the  gold  shoulder-straps,  worn 
in  imitation  of  a  captain's  uniform  in  the  army, 
meant  but  one  thing,  and  that  was  that  Cap- 
tain Joe  was  coming  down  to  carry  Brevet- 
Captain  up  to  Arlington  for  the  day.  Indeed  at 


4  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

that  moment  a  cheery  "  How'dy,  Brevet!  "  rang 
out  on  the  still  morning  air,  and  at  the  same 
moment  a  donkey  and  a  two-wheeled  cart  driven 
by  an  old  negro  came  to  a  stand  at  the  gate. 

"  How'dy,  Captain,  I'm  ready  for  you.  Been 
expecting  you  ev'ry  minute  since  breakfast. 
Good-bye,  Grand/tana,  take  good  care  of  your- 
self," and  a  pair  of  chubby  arms  gave  grand- 
mamma just  about  as  much  of  a  hug  as  the 
old  lady  could  bear  up  under. 

"  Good-mornin',  Miss  Lindy,"  said  Captain 
Joe,  stepping  up  to  the  gate  and  touching  his 
cap  deferentially.  "  I  'spose  the  little  un  tol' 
you  I'd  like  him  up  to  Arlington  fur  de  day  if 
you  could  spare  him." 

"No,  Joe,"  answered  Mrs.  Ellis,  smiling, 
"  Brevet  does  not  think  that  necessary  now-a- 
days.  He  simply  dons  the  blue  reefer  with 
the  shoulder-straps,  and  that  means  he  has  his 
orders  for  the  day  from  his  captain,  and  grand- 
mammas are  not  expected  to  ask  questions." 

Brevet  stood  by,  his  hands  upon  his  hips  in 
most  independent  fashion,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  That  describes  the  case  exactly." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  he  don'  mean  no  harm,  Miss 
Lindy,"  said  Joe,  a  little  anxiously.  "He's 
dat  much  in  earnest  'bout  everything  dat  he's 
a  Brevet-Cap'n  sure  'nuff  when  he  gets  his 
straps  on." 


TWO  OLD  CRONIES.  5 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  Joe,"  answered  Mrs. 
Ellis,  "but  we'll  just  send  for  you,  if  the  day 
comes  when  we  need  to  court-martial  him  for 
insubordination." 

Brevet  did  not  at  all  understand  this  last  re- 
mark, and  so,  touching  his  little  blue  cap  in  true 
soldier-fashion,  turned  on  his  heel  and  marched 
down  to  the  donkey-cart  as  though  in  com- 
mand of  an  army. 

"  Brevet,"  said  Joe  seriously,  as  they  jogged 
away  from  the  gate,  "  You  mus'  be  ver'  care- 
ful 'bout  bein'  spectful  like  to  yo'  Grand;/#na, 
case  if  you  don'  dere's  no  tellin*  but  any  day 
yo'  Cap'n  '11  take  away  yo'  straps  an'  den  you'd 
jus'  be  plain  Marse  Howard  again  I  reckon." 

"  Joe,"  said  Brevet  solemnly,  his  voice  trem- 
bling a  little,  "  I  could  not  bear  it  if  you  took 
away  my  straps,"  and  he  laid  a  little  brown 
hand  protectingly  upon  one  shoulder. 

"  Well,  den  you  have  a  care,  Honey,  'bout 
Miss  Lindy,  an'  de  nex'  time  Joe  invites  you 
down  to  Arlington  fur  de  day,  you  des  ask 
yo'  Grandtf^na's  permission.  Yo're  my  Bre- 
vet-Cap'n  sure  'nuff,  but  you're  yo'  Grand- 
w^na's  little  pickaninny  eb'ry  day  in  de  week, 
and  don'  you  forget  it." 

"  I'll  remember,  Captain,"  with  most  soldier- 
like submission,  and  then  for  awhile  they 
drove  along  in  silence. 


6  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

Happy  thoughts  of  anticipation,  however, 
soon  chased  the  troubled  look  from  Brevet's 
little  face,  for  there  was  nothing  at  all  could 
compare  with  these  occasional  days  spent  with 
Joe  at  Arlington.  It  was  owing  to  them  that 
he  had  gained  his  dearly-loved  title  of  Brevet 
and  the  blue  soldier-cap  and  the  shoulder- 
straps.  Joe  had  been  a  member  of  a  coloured 
regiment  and  had  fought  all  through  the  war, 
and  when  at  last  he  had  come  back  and  had 
settled  down  in  his  old  cabin  at  Arlington,  he 
was  dubbed  Captain,  in  recognition  of  his  gal- 
lant services,  by  all  the  coloured  folk  of  the 
neighbourhood.  And  Joe  was  by  no  means 
unworthy  of  the  honour,  for  save  for  the  fact 
that  his  regiment  had  been  officered  by  white 
men,  he  might  easily  have  risen  to  the  com- 
mand of  a  company.  Time  and  time  again  in 
the  face  of  the  greatest  danger  he  had  been 
notoriously  fearless,  and  had  never  in  a  single 
instance  shown  the  white  feather,  which  is 
more  than  can  be  said  for  many  of  his  black 
comrades.  And  so  from  that  time  on  it  had 
been  Captain  Joe,  and  when  some  thirty  years 
later  little  Howard  Ellis  came  to  make  his  home 
with  his  grandmother,  and  soon  afterward  came 
to  know  Joe,  and  to  spend  many  a  long  sum- 
mer day  in  his  delightful  company,  what  more 
natural  than  that  the  little  fellow,  with  his 


¥'  £ 

' 


IT'S  DES  UE   NAME  FUR  YOU,   HONEY/'— Page  7. 


TWO  OLD  CRONIES.  7 

great  passion  for  everything  military,  should 
first  aspire  to  some  of  the  outward  insignia, 
and  then,  having  attained  cap  and  shoulder- 
straps  by  favour  of  his  grandmother,  should 
later  be  dowered  with  the  title  of  "  Brevet- 
Captain,"  by  favour  of  Captain  Joe  himself? 

"  You  see  it's  des  de  name  fur  you,  Honey," 
Joe  had  explained,  "case  it'll  save  any  con- 
fus'n'  of  us  togedder,  an'  at  de  same  time  it's 
a  very  complimentin'  title.  It  means  es  how 
you  have  it  des  as  a  sort  of  honour,  widout 
havin'  any  of  de  'sponsibilities  of  an  out-an'- 
outer  cap'n  like  me." 

From  that  day  forward  it  was  "  Brevet-Cap- 
tain," very  tenaciously  insisted  upon  by  How- 
ard himself,  but  gradually  allowed  to  be  abbre- 
viated to  "  Brevet "  within  the  home  circle. 
And  so  Captain  Joe  and  Brevet,  having  long 
ago  arrived  at  the  most  satisfactory  mutual 
understanding,  sat  side  by  side  in  the  donkey- 
cart,  without  feeling  the  slightest  obligation 
to  say  a  word. 

The  road  from  the  Ellis  homestead  up  to 
Arlington  lies  through  the  woods,  and  has  all 
the  charm  of  a  road  that  has  been  left  to  fol- 
low its  own  way — and  a  sweet,  wild  way  at 
that.  There  were  no  fences,  either  new  or  old, 
for  none  were  needed.  On  each  side  a  forest  of 
oak,  interspersed  with  an  occasional  maple  or 


8  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

chestnut,  stretched  miles  away,  with  seldom  a 
glimpse  of  a  clearing,  while  immediately  bor- 
dering the  road  grew  the  veriest  tangle  of  a 
natural  hedge-row,  abloom  with  some  sort  of 
sweet  wild-flower  from.  May  to  October.  The 
original  cut  through  the  wood  had  been  hap- 
pily a  wide  one,  and  so  sunshine  and  shower 
even,  after  all  these  years,  still  had  abundant 
chance  to  slant  this  way  and  that  across  the 
road  and  coax  every  growing  thing  to  perfec- 
tion. Wood-violets,  white  and  yellow  and 
purple,  peered  out  from  under  the  taller 
growths  of  fern  in  the  early  springtime.  June 
brought  the  sweet  wild  rose,  unfolding  bud 
after  bud  well  into  the  summer,  and  the  white 
berry-blossoms  of  the  briars.  With  August 
came  the  berries  themselves,  ripening  ungath- 
ered  in  riotous  profusion,  and  following  close 
upon  them  advance  heralds  of  the  goldenrod 
and  the  asters.  It  was  in  very  truth  a  beau- 
tiful, dear  old  road,  and  it  formed  a  beautiful 
setting  for  the  little  donkey-drawn  cart  slowly 
making  its  way  along  it.  A  pretty  contrast, 
too,  that  of  the  old  negro,  still  alert  and 
sturdy  notwithstanding  his  threescore  years 
and  ten,  with  the  little  golden-haired  boy  beside 
him.  Together  they  seemed  the  embodiment 
of  happy,  confiding  childhood  and  trustful,  se- 
rene old  age. 


TWO  OLD  CRONIES.  9 

On  came  the  little  cart,  each  of  its  occupants 
apparently  intent  upon  his  own  thoughts,  until 
at  last  Brevet  commenced  humming  a  sweet 
little  refrain  ;  very  softly  and  slowly  at  first,  as 
though  not  quite  sure  of  his  ground,  then  more 
distinctly  as  he  felt  himself  master  of  the  situa- 
tion. Finally  the  refrain  took  to  itself  words ; 
words  that  have  since  grown  commonplace, 
but  which  had  all  the  charm  of  novelty  for  Joe, 
and  he  listened  with  absorbed  delight  as 
Brevet  sang  cutely, — 

"  I'se  a  little  Alabama  Coon 

And  I  hasn't  been  born  very  long, 
I  'member  seein'  a  great  big  roun'  moon 

I  'member  hearin'  one  sweet  song; 
When  dey  tote  me  down  to  de  cotton-field, 

Dar  I  roll  and  I  tumble  in  de  sun, 
While  my  daddy  pick  de  cotton  mammy  watch 

me  grow, 
And  dis  am  de  song  she  sung  :  " 

Brevet  paused  for  the  briefest  part  of  a 
second  to  see  how  Joe  was  taking  it. 

"  Go  on,  Honey,  go  on,"  urged  Joe. 

"  An'  dis  am  de  song  she  sung  :  " 
repeated  Brevet. 

"  Go  to  sleep  my  little  pickaninny, 
Br'er  Fox'll  catch  if  yo'  don't ; 
Slumber  on  de  bosom  of  yo'  ole  Mammy  Jinny 
Mammy's  gwine  to  swatch  yo'  if  yo'  won't. 


io  LITTLE  HOMESPUA". 

Sh Lu-la,  lu-la  lu-la  lu-la  lu  ! 

Underneaf  de  silver  Southern  moon, 
Rock-a-by,  hush-a-by,  Mammy's  little  baby, 

Mammy's  little  Alabama  Coon." 

"  Again,  Honey,  again,"  in  a  voice  of  actual 
command,  so  reluctant  was  Joe  to  have  his 
keen  enjoyment  for  one  moment  interrupted, 
and  Brevet  obeyed,  keeping  the  air  per- 
fectly and  singing  with  all  his  heart,  too,  as 
though  himself  a  veritable  little  pickaninny, 
dwelling  upon  the  many  happy  memories  of 
babyhood  in  a  cotton-field. 

"  I  clar  to  yo',  Honey,"  said  Joe,  his  voice 
trembling  with  delight,  "  I  can  just  see  dat 
little  baby.  Seems  ter  me  I  nebcr  done  hear 
anythin'  so  pretty,  anythin'  dat  fit  each  other 
like  dat  song  an'  words.  Whar  eber  did  yo' 
Tarn  it,  Honey?" 

"  Uncle  Harry  taught  it  to  me,  Joe." 
"Are  der  any  more  verses,  Honey?" 
"There's  one  more,  Joe,  but  Uncle  Harry 
says  it's  so  ordinary  it  doesn't  belong  with  the 
first  verse  at  all." 

"  Well  now,  dat's  a  pity,"  said  Joe,  very  re- 
gretfully, "  but  yo'  Uncle  Harry  he  do  beat 
all  for  gettin'  hoi'  of  sweet,  catchin'  music  an' 
I  kin  des  tell  yo',  Honey,  you  done  mus'  sing 
dat  song  to  yo'  ole  Cap'n  eb'ry  time  we  fin' 
ourselves  togedder  fur  half  a  shake  of  a  lamb's 


1 


"UNCLE  HARRY."— Page  io; 


TWO  OLD  CRONIES.  1 1 

tail.  Gib  us  yo'  han'  on  it,  Honey,  dat  you 
will." 

Brevet  put  his  brown  hand  in  Joe's  black 
one,  his  own  face  beaming  with  the  pleasure 
he  had  given,  and  so  the  two  boon  companions 
jogged  on,  until,  high  on  a  hill  before  them, 
the  pillars  of  a  fine  old  house  came  into  view, 
and  a  few  moments  later  the  donkey-cart  drew 
up  at  a  little  cabin,  just  in  the  rear  of  the  fine 
old  house,  a  cabin  that  had  been  Joe's  home 
ever  since  he  was  as  little  a  fellow  as  Brevet 
there  beside  him. 

"  I'll  look  around  while  you  put  Jennie  up," 
explained  Brevet,  as  soon  as  Joe  had  lifted 
him  from  the  cart,  and  putting  his  hands  in 
his  pockets  he  walked  up  to  the  big  house, 
straight  through  the  hall,  whose  doors  stood 
wide  open,  and  out  on  to  the  porch  in  front. 
Brevet  simply  loved  "  to  look  around,"  from 
that  porch,  and  I  do  not  think  he  ever  stood 
there  without  his  resolve  to  be  a  soldier  some 
day  surging  up  in  a  strong,  new  tide  within 
him.  Some  of  the  rest  of  us,  who  are  quite 
too  old  ever  to  think  of  being  soldiers,  and 
whose  petticoats  must  at  any  age  have  stood 
in  the  way,  know  exactly  how  Brevet  felt. 
You  know,  too,  if  you  have  ever  been  to 
Arlington,  and,  having  been  born  and  bred  in 
these  United  States  of  ours,  are  the  true  little 


12  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

American  you  really  ought  to  be.  But  in 
case  you  never  have  been  to  Arlington,  and 
do  not  at  all  know  why  it  should  make  you 
feel  that  you  would  like  to  be  a  soldier,  then 
let  me  tell  you  before  you  have  read  another 
single  line,  that  Arlington  is  the  great  National 
Cemetery,  lying  a  few  miles  out  from  Wash- 
ington, and  where  more  than  fifteen  thousand 
soldiers  lie  buried.  From  the  moment  you 
enter  the  beautiful  grounds,  you  see  the  low 
mounds  stretching  away  on  every  side  of  you, 
and  when  you  drive  up  in  front  of  Arlington 
House  itself,  there  is  brave  General  Sheridan's 
tomb  right  in  front  of  you,  so  you  cannot  for- 
get for  a  moment  what  a  host  of  noble  heroes 
they  were,  who  fought  in  our  great  civil  war 
thirty  years  ago,  and  how  grand  a  thing  it  is 
to  be  willing  to  lay  down  one's  life  if  need  be, 
for  the  honour  of  one's  country.  But  perhaps 
you  wonder  that  there  should  be  a  fine  old 
house  in  a  cemetery,  and  that  Brevet  should 
so  love  to  go  there,  thinking  a  cemetery  for 
your  part  rather  sad  and  depressing,  and  won- 
der too  why  Joe  should  have  chosen  such  a 
place  for  his  home  ;  all  of  which  wonders  it 
would  take  too  much  time  to  explain  in  this 
chapter,  a  chapter  that  was  only  meant  to 
introduce  you  to  Brevet  and  the  Captain,  so 
good-bye  for  just  now  to  Arlington. 


CHAPTER   II. 

COURAGE   TAKES   HEART. 

THIS  time,  as  before,  there  is  a  story  to  tell 
because  of  something  braved  and  dared  for 
Miss  Julia's  sake;  something  that  needed  less 
nerve,  perhaps,  than  the  leap  Courage  took 
that  night  on  the  drawbridge,  but  something 
that  called  not  only  for  a  world  of  a  different 
sort  of  courage,  but  for  infinite  patience  as 
well,  and  that  claimed  the  whole  summer  for 
its  doing.  The  reason  for  it  all  lay  in  four 
little  words — Miss  Julia  was  dead.  Beautiful, 
strong,  radiant  Miss  Julia!  why,  no  one  had 
thought  of  death  for  her,  save  as  years  and 
years  away  in  the  serene  twilight  of  a  calm 
old  age ;  and  yet  it  had  come,  suddenly,  after 
a  week's  brief  illness,  and  Courage  was  simply 
broken-hearted.  She  felt  she  had  no  right  to 
her  name  now,  and  never  should  have  again. 
Miss  Julia  had  been  teacher,  mother,  friend  to 
her,  one  or  the  other  almost  since  her  baby- 
hood, and  to  care  for  Miss  Julia  in  return,  now 
that  she  herself  was  grown  up,  to  let  every- 
thing else  "come  second,"  had  been  her  only 


14  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

thought.  And  now  to  find  her  hands  sud- 
denly empty,  and  all  the  sunshine  gone  out  of 
her  life — was  it  strange  that  she  felt  despairing 
and  desolate  and  that  nothing  whatever  was 
left? 

"  But  we  are  left,"  pleaded  a  chorus  of  little 
voices,  and  Courage  seemed  to  see  four  bright- 
eyed  little  children  ;  bright-eyed  because  God 
had  made  them  so,  but  with  faces  almost  as 
sad  as  her  own.  "  Yes,  we  are  left,"  they  con- 
tinued pleading.  "  Miss  Julia  was  going  to  do 
so  much  for  us  this  summer ;  could  not  you 
do  it  in  her  place  for  her  sake?" 

Courage  shook  her  head  gravely  as  in  answer 
to  her  own  thoughts. 

"  No,  I  cannot,"  she  said,  firmly.  "  Every- 
thing that  I  leaned  on  is  gone ;  nothing  is  left 
to  me — nothing." 

"  But  could  you  not  try  just  for  her  sake  ?  " 
chorused  the  little  voices  over  and  over  in  her 
heart,  day  after  day,  in  all  the  sad  hours  of 
waking,  and  sometimes  even  in  sleeping,  until 
at  last  she  bravely  brushed  the  tears  away 
and  made  answer,  "  Yes,  for  her  sake  I  will !  " 

She  remembered  the  day  of  her  six-year-old 
christening,  when  her  remarkable  name  had 
been  given  her  and  she  had  asked  :  "  Is  cour- 
age something  that  people  have,  Papa  ?  Have 
I  got  it?"  and  he  had  told  her, "  Courage  is 


COURAGE  TAKES  HEART.  15 

something  that  people  have,  dear,  something 
fine,  and  I  hope  you  will  have  it." 

Yes,  she  would  try,  even  in  this  dark  hour, 
to  live  up  to  her  father's  hope  for  her,  and  so 
her  resolve  was  taken. 

But  the  four  bright-eyed  little  children  knew 
nothing  of  any  resolve  ;  they  would  not  have 
understood  what  it  meant  if  they  had,  and  as 
for  their  singing  a  pathetic  little  chorus  in  any 
one's  heart,  they  were  altogether  unconscious 
of  that  as  well.  But  one  thing  they  did  know, 
and  that  was  they  should  never  see  Miss  Julia 
again  in  this  world,  and  they  thought  they 
also  knew  that  a  beautiful  plan  she  had  made 
for  them  could  never  be  carried  out.  The 
wisest  thing,  therefore,  for  these  four  little 
people  was  to  put,  so  far  as  possible,  all 
thought  of  the  plan  from  their  minds,  and 
Mary,  the  eldest  of  the  four,  said  as  much  to 
the  others. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  us  think  about  it  any  more," 
she  urged,  earnestly.  "  If  we  only  could  have 
Miss  Julia  back  what  would  we  care  for  any- 
thing else  ?  Besides,  when  you  think  what  has 
happened,  it  seems  selfish,  and  as  though  we 
did  not  have  any  hearts,  to  grieve  over  our 
own  little  plans  for  a  moment." 

"  But  it  wasn't  just  over  our  own  little  plan," 
insisted  her  younger  brother  Teddy,  "it  was 


1 6  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

Miss  Julia's  plan  for  us,  and  I  don't  think  it 
strange  a  bit  that  we  should  grieve  over  it." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  urged  Allan,  who  came  next 
to  Teddy  in  age.  "  Of  course  us  boys,  not  go- 
ing to  the  sewing-school,  did  not  know  Miss 
Julia  as  well  as  you,  but  I  just  guess  there 
wasn't  a  boy  who  thought  more  of  her  than  I 
did.  What's  more  I  loved  her  ;  not  making  a 
fuss  over  her,  to  be  sure,  like  you  girls,  still  I 
did  really  love  her,"  (emphasising  the  word  by 
a  shake  of  his  head,  and  firm  pursing  of  his 
lips).  "  All  the  same,  I  think  it's  natural  we 
should  feel  awfully  disappointed."  Gertrude 
who  was  seven,  and  the  youngest  of  the  four, 
nodded  in  approval  of  the  stand  Allan  had 
taken,  and  continued  nodding,  as  he  added, 
"We  haven't  travelled  so  much,  seems  to  me, 
or  had  so  much  change  in  our  lives  as  to  settle 
back  to  the  idea  of  a  hot  summer  here  in 
town,  instead  of  going  to  the  country,  without 
feeling  it  a  bit ;  that  is,  I  don't  think  we  have." 

Mary  sighed  and  said  nothing,  as  though 
ready  to  admit,  after  all,  that  perhaps  it  was 
natural  that  they  should  take  their  disappoint- 
ment somewhat  to  heart,  but  the  tears  that 
had  sprung  suddenly  into  her  eyes  were  from 
real  longing  for  Miss  Julia  and  not  from  the 
disappointment. 

This  quiet  talk  in  which  the  little  Bennetts 


\ 


COURAGE  TAKES  HEART.  17 

were  indulging,  was  being  carried  on  from  the 
backs  of  two  horses — the  two  girls  mounted 
upon  one  and  the  two  boys  astride  the  other 
— but  they  happened  to  be  the  quietest  horses 
in  the  world  ;  horses  that  never  budged  in  fact, 
tailless  and  headless,  and  that  belonged  to 
the  carpenter  who  lived  on  the  first  floor.  The 
Bennetts  lived  on  the  top  floor;  but  whenever 
there  was  anything  to  be  talked  over,  down  they 
trooped  to  the  yard  and  climbed  and  helped 
each  other  to  the  backs  of  these  high  seats,  and 
when  all  were  able  to  declare  themselves  per- 
fectly comfortable  the  conclave  would  com- 
mence. The  little  Bennetts  were  great  talkers. 
They  simply  loved  to  discuss  things,  and  this 
shows,  when  you  stop  to  consider  it,  that  they 
must  be,  on  the  whole,  an  amiable  little  family, 
for  some  little  people  that  we  hear  of  are  quite 
too  impatient  and  self-assertive  to  be  willing  to 
discuss  things  at  all.  But  whatever  may  have 
been  the  faults  of  the  little  Bennetts  they  did 
have  respect  for  each  other's  opinions,  and  were 
generally  ready  to  admit  that  two  heads  were 
better  than  one,  and  "  Four  heads,"  to  quote 
little  Gertrude,  "  four  times  as  better."  This 
habit  of  discussion,  for  it  really  amounted  to 
that,  was  partly  no  doubt  the  outcome  of  a 
little  strategy  on  the  part  of  their  mother. 
Mary  and  Teddy  and  Allan  and  Gertrude  were 


1 8  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

just  a  ''pair  of  steps,"  as  the  saying  goes,  and 
sometimes  the  little  living-room  on  the  fourth 
floor  seemed  all  too  small  for  the  noisy  com- 
pany, and  then  Mrs.  Bennett  would  exclaim, 
and  as  though  the  most  novel  sort  of  an  idea 
had  occurred  to  her, 

"  Children,  why  don't  you  run  down  to  the 
yard  and  have  a  good  talk  ?  " 

There  was  no  resisting  this  appeal,  such  un- 
told delights  were  implied  in  Mrs.  Bennett's 
tone  and  manner,  and  the  children  seldom 
failed  to  act  upon  the  advice,  and  what  was 
more,  seldom  failed  to  light  upon  some  inter- 
esting thing  to  talk  about  ;  and  then,  always 
as  a  last  resort,  some  one  could  tell  a  story. 
The  some  one  was  generally  Teddy,  for  he 
had  the  wildest  imagination,  and  could  upon 
any  and  every  occasion  invent  most  thrilling 
romances,  which  were  quite  as  much  of  a  sur- 
prise to  himself  as  to  his  hearers.  And  so  the 
children  had  come  to  love  their  perch  in  the 
corner  of  the  city  yard,  with  the  uncertain 
shade  of  an  old  alanthus  flickering  over  them 
in  summer,  and  the  bright  sun  streaming  full 
upon  them  in  its  leafless  winter  days.  And 
this  was  how  it  chanced  that  the  Bennett  chil- 
dren found  themselves  in  their  old  haunt  that 
breezy  May  morning,  and  were  easing  their 
heavy  little  hearts  by  frankly  admitting  to  one 


COURAGE  TAKES  HEART.  19 

another  how  very  great  indeed  was  their  dis- 
appointment. 

Better  so,  I  think.  Wrinkles  come  earlier 
and  plow  deeper,  and  thoughts  are  apt  to  grow 
bitter  and  morbid,  when  one  broods  and 
broods,  and  will  not  take  hearts  near  and  dear 
into  one's  confidence.  The  day  never  dawns 
when  truly  brave  hearts  cry  out  for  pity,  but 
sympathy  is  a  sweet  and  blessed  thing  the 
world  over,  and  God  meant  not  only  that  we 
should  have  it,  but  that,  if  need  be,  we  should 
reach  our  hands  and  grasp  it. 

There  was  one  little  Bennett,  however,  who 
did  not  share  in  the  general  depression.  Too 
short  a  time  in  the  world  to  know  aught  of  its 
joys  or  sorrows,  Baby  Bennett  lay  comforta- 
bly in  his  mother's  lap,  having  just  dropped 
off  to  sleep  after  a  good  half  hour  of  rocking. 
Mrs.  Bennett,  who  had  herself  grown  drowsy 
with  her  low  crooning  over  the  baby,  glanced 
first  at  the  bustling  little  clock  on  the  mantel 
shelf,  and  then,  leaning  her  head  against  the 
back  of  the  chair,  closed  her  eyes;  but  instead 
of  falling  asleep  she  fell  to  thinking,  and  then 
her  face  grew  very  sad  and  tears  made  their 
way  from  beneath  her  closed  eyelids.  So,  you 
see,  the  mother-heart  was  heavy  as  well  as  the- 
child-hearts  in  the  Bennett  family,  and  for  the 
same  reason.  It  was  not  because  they  were 


20  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

not  learning  to  face  and  accept  the  thought 
that  Miss  Julia,  whom  they  so  dearly  loved, 
could  not  return  to  them;  they  were  trying  to 
be  as  brave  as  Miss  Julia  herself  would  have 
had  them.  But  this  was  the  day,  the  very  day 
that  they  were  all  to  have  started,  and  they 
could  not  seem  to  forget  it  for  a  moment  ; 
neither  could  somebody  else,  and  soon  there 
came  a  gentle  knock  at  Mrs.  Bennett's  door. 

"  Come  in,"  she  answered,  forgetting  the 
tears  in  her  eyes ;  and,  laying  the  baby  in  its 
little  clothes-basket  of  a  bed,  she  turned  to 
greet  the  newcomer.  Courage  had  mounted 
the  four  flights  of  stairs  very  bravely,  but  the 
sight  of  the  tears  in  Mrs.  Bennett's  eyes  dis- 
armed her,  and,  sinking  into  the  nearest  chair, 
she  found  she  would  best  not  try  to  speak  for 
a  moment. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,  Miss  Courage,  that  you 
should  have  seen  me,"  said  Mrs.  Bennett,  with 
a  world  of  regret  in  her  voice  ;  "  it  is  so  much 
harder  for  you  than  for  anybody,  but  this  was 
the  day,  you  know,  almost  the  very  hour." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  Courage  faltered  ;  "  that  was 
why  I  came." 

"It's  like  you,  Miss  Courage;  you've  Miss 
Julia's  own  thoughtfulness,  but  I'm  thinking 
it  will  be  easier  for  us  all  when  this  day's  over. 
I  got  rid  of  the  trunk  last  week  ;  it  seemed  to 


CO  URA  GE  TA  KES  HE  A  RT.  21 

make  us  all  so  disheartened  to  have  it  standing 
round." 

"  You  didn't  sell  it,  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  I  did  not,  for  it  may  be  the 
children  will  have  a  chance  yet  some  day,  for 
a  bit  of  an  outing  " 

"  I  have  decided  they  are  all  to  have  it  yet, 
Mrs.  Bennett,  this  very  summer,  and  just  as 
Miss  Julia  planned,  too.  That's  what  I  came 
to  tell  you,  if  you  will  trust  them  to  me." 

"  Trust  you  !  Oh,  my  dear  !  but  it  would  be 
too  much  care  for  those  young  shoulders;  too 
much  by  far." 

"  Mrs.  Bennett,"  said  Courage,  so  earnestly 
as  to  carry  conviction,  "  I  thought  so  at  first, 
too,  but  the  plan  has  grown  to  be  just  as  dear 
to  me  as  it  was  to  Miss  Julia,  and  now,  if  you 
do  not  let  me  carry  it  out,  I  do  not  see  how  I 
can  ever  live  through  this  first  summer." 

"  Then  indeed  I  will  let  you,"  and  then  she 
added  slowly,  and  with  an  accent  on  every 
word,  "and  you  are  just  Miss  Julia's  own 
child  !  "  and  Courage  thought  them  the  very 
sweetest  words  she  had  ever  heard,  or  ever 
could  hear  again. 

"May  I  tell  the  children?"  she  asked, 
eagerly.  "  Where  are  they  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bennett  did  not  answer.  I  believe 
she  could  not,  but  she  opened  the  window  and 


22  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

Courage  knew  that  meant  the  children  were 
below  in  their  favourite  corner. 

"  Oh,  let  me  call  them,  please,"  resting  one 
hand  on  Mrs.  Bennett's  arm  and  leaning  far 
out  over  the  sill. 

"  Children !  come  up  stairs  for  a  moment,  I 
have  something  to  tell  you.  Come  up 
quickly."  Courage  hardly  knew  her  own 
voice,  it  rang  out  so  cheerily. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Courage !"  chorused  four  little 
voices,  only  this  time  the  sound  was  in  her 
ears  as  well  as  in  her  heart,  and  as  she  watched 
the  children  tumble  helter-skelter  from  the 
horses  in  the  yard  way  down  below  her,  a 
smile  that  was  almost  merry  drove  the  shadows 
from  her  face. 


CHAPTER   III. 

A  DELIGHTFUL  DISCOVERY. 

"WHY,  whatever's  going  on  here?"  ex- 
claimed Brevet. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Joe,  turning  slowly  round, 
for  he  knew  what  had  attracted  Brevet's 
attention.  "  I  done  notice  it  on  de  way  up  ter 
Ellismere  fo'  you  dis  mornin',  an'  den  I  was  so 
took  up  with  dat  fascinatin'  song  of  yo's  as 
we  drove  back,  dat  I  didn't  want  to  interrupt 
you  long  'nuff  to  call  yo'  attention  to  it. 
Looks  as  dough  dere  mus'  be  some  one  come 
ter  live  in  de  pretty  little  house,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  it  does,"  said  Brevet,  very  much 
interested  ;  "  and  you  don't  know  who  it  is, 
Joe?" 

"  No,  I  hasn't  knowed  nuffin'  'bout  it,  till  I 
seed  de  whole  place  lookin'  so  pert  like  dis 
mornin',"  and  Joe  brought  old  Jennie  to  a 
standstill  that  they  might  more  fully  take  in 
the  situation. 

"Don't  you  think  I  ought  to  find  out, 
Joe?" 

"  Why,  yes,  Honey,  seems  ter  me  it  would 


24  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

be  sort  of  frien'ly,"  and  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word  he  took  Brevet  by  the  arms  and 
dropped  him  down  over  the  cart-wheel. 

The  change  that  had  come  over  this  point 
in  the  road  was  indeed  remarkable.  A  little 
house  that  had  remained  untenanted  for  years, 
in  the  midst  of  an  overgrown  enclosure,  stood 
this  bright  June  morning  with  every  door 
and  window  open  to  the  air  and  sunshine. 
The  vines  which  had  half  hidden  it  from  view 
had  already  been  cut  away,  and  on  every  hand 
were  signs  that  the  place  was  being  brought 
into  liveable  shape  with  all  possible  expedi- 
tion. No  one  was  in  sight,  so  Brevet  noise- 
lessly pushed  open  the  gate,  and,  making  his 
way  to  the  little  front  porch,  reached  upward 
and  lifted  the  brass  knocker  of  the  open  door. 
The  unexpected  sound  instantly  brought  a 
neatly-dressed,  elderly-looking  woman  from 
some  room  in  the  rear. 

"  How'dy,"  said  Brevet,  instantly  put  at  his 
ease  by  the  kindness  of  the  woman's  face. 

"  What  did  you  say,  dear  ?  "  she  asked,  with 
a  puzzled  frown. 

"  I  said  how'dy,"  explained  Brevet,  wonder- 
ing that  the  woman's  face  still  wore  the 
puzzled  look.  "  We  just  stopped  to  ask  who 
was  coming.  We  go  by  here  very  often,  Joe 
and  I,"  pointing  to  the  cart,  "  and  we  were 


"'HOW'UV,'  SAIL)  BREVET.''— Page  3*. 


A  DELIGHTFUL  DISCOVERY.  25 

wondering  what  was  up  seeing  this  place  open 
that's  been  closed  so  long." 

"  It  can't  be  that  Miss  Julia's  self  isacomin' 
can  it?"  called  Joe,  for  the  little  house  was 
not  set  so  far  back  from  the  road  but  that  he 
could  hear  every  word  spoken  between  the 
woman  and  Brevet. 

"Why,  did  you  know  Miss  Julia?"  she 
asked,  stepping  at  once  to  the  gate,  with 
Brevet  following  close  behind  her. 

"  No,  Miss ;  dat  is  not  personally,  but  I 
knowed  dat  Miss  Julia  owned  dis  little  plan- 
tation, an'  I  often  wonder  dat  she  never  done 
come  to  live  on  it.  I  can  'member  when  her 
Uncle  Dave  was  livin',  an'  it  was  den  des  de 
homiest  little  homestead  in  de  country." 

"You  have  not  heard  then  of  Miss  Julia's 
death?" 

"  No,"  exclaimed  Joe,  with  as  much  feeling 
in  his  voice  as  though  Miss  Julia  had  indeed 
been  an  old  friend;  "you  don'  tell  me!  I'se 
often  heard  what  a  reg'lar  lady  she  was,  and 
often  wished  I  done  have  a  chance  to  lay 
eyes  on  her." 

"  She  was  a  very  good  friend  to  me,"  said 
the  woman,  sorrowfully,  "  and  she  had  ex- 
pected to  come  down  here  this  summer  and 
open  the  house,  and  bring  a  little  family  of  city 
children  with  her  who  had  never  spent  a  day 
in  the  real  country  in  their  lives." 


26  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

"You  don't  say  so  !  "  said  Joe,  shaking  his 
head  sadly.  "  It's  strange  what  times  de  Lord 
chooses  to  call  de  good  folks  out  of  dis  woiT." 
And  then  he  added,  after  a  moment  of  respect- 
ful silence,  "  But  de  place  here,  am  it  sold  to 
some  new  party  ?  " 

"No;  Miss  Julia  left  it  in  her  will  to  a 
young  lady  who  was  just  the  same  as  a  daugh- 
ter to  her,  and  she  has  decided  to  come  down 
in  Miss  Julia's  place  this  summer." 

"  And  bring  the  little  children  ? "  asked 
Brevet,  eagerly. 

"  And  bring  the  little  children,"  answered 
the  woman,  her  face  brightening.  "I  have 
come  down  to  make  everything  ready  for 
them,  and  they  are  coming  on  Friday." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  I  could  know  them  ?  " 

"Of  course  you  can  know  them.  You  must 
come  and  see  them  so  soon  as  ever  they  come. 
But  you  must  tell  me  your  name  so  that  I  can 
tell  them  about  you." 

"  My  name  is  Howard  Ellis,  but  that  name 
isn't  any  use  now.  Everybody  calls  me  Brevet 
since  I  and  the  Captain  here  have  grown  to  be 
such  friends.  It  means  kind  of  an  officer  in 
the  army,  arid  when  I  grow  up  I'm  going  to 
West  Point  and  learn  how  to  be  a  real  officer, 
and  not  just  kind  of  a  one  at  all.  But  till  then 
everybody's  going  to  call  me  Brevet.  And 


THEN,  SYLVIA,  WHY   IJ1U  YOU    NOT  SAY   SO?" — l\i ^t  29. 


A  DELIGHTFUL  DISCOVERY.  27 

now  what  is  your  name  please,  and  the  chil- 
dren's, because  I  want  to  tell  my  grand«#na 
all  about  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  name  is  Mary  Duff,  dear,  and  the 
children  are  named  Bennett— Mary  and  Teddy 
and  Allan  and  Gertrude  Bennett." 

"Oh,  are  two  of  them  boys?"  and  Brevet's 
face  was  radiant.  "  I  haven't  had  a  boy  to  play 
with  ever  hardly,  but  I  s'pose  they're  older 
boys  than  me,"  he  added,  a  little  crestfallen  ; 
"almost  all  boys  are." 

"  Well,  Teddy  is  not  very  much  older,  just  a 
little,  and  Allan  is  just  about  your  age  I 
should  say.  Never  you  fear,  Brevet,  you'll 
have  beautiful  times  with  them  all,  I  know." 

"  When  shall  I  come  then  ?  "  wishing  to  have 
matters  very  definitely  arranged.  "  Do  you 
think  they  would  like  to  have  me  here  to  help 
them  feel  at  home  right  off  at  the  very  first?" 

"  Well,  I  should  not  wonder  but  they 
would  like  that  very  much  indeed." 

"  Then  I  will  come  on  Friday." 

"  You  mean  you  will  ask  your  granVwna, 
Brevet,"  said  Joe,  significantly. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  mean  I  will  ask  if  I  may  come." 
This  last  very  quickly  and  eagerly,  remember- 
ing his  little  lecture  of  the  morning. 

"  Well,  it's  des  a  comfort  to  see  de  ole  place 
in  shape  once  more,  an'  I  trus'  you  an'  de 


28  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

young  lady  an'  de  chilluns  will  have  des  a 
beautiful  summer.  P'r'aps  some  day,"  and 
Joe's  eyes  twinkled  with  the  thought,  "  dey'll 
all  come  up  and  spen'  de  day  with  me  at 
Arlington.  Brevet  here  alway  des  loves  to 
come.  You  know  Arlington's  where  all  de 
soldiers  am  buried.  I  used  to  be  a  slave  on 
de  place  'fo'  de  wah,  an'  dere  ain't  much  hap- 
pened dere  fur  de  las'  fifty  years  dat  I  hasn't 
some  knowledge  of,  and  dey  done  tell  me  " 
(indulging  in  a  little  complacent  chuckle)  "dat 
it's  mighty  interestin'  ter  spen'  de  day  with 
Joe  at  Arlington." 

"  Well,  indeed  I  should  think  it  would  be/' 
said  Mary,  very  much  interested,  "  and  I  wish 
you  would  stop  and  see  Miss  Courage  about 
it  the  first  time  you  drive  by." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Miss;  and  now, 
Brevet,  your  gran'w^na  will  be  watchin'  fur 
us  an'  we  had  bes'  be  joggin'  on  I'm  thinkin'." 

"All  right,  Captain,"  clambering  into  the 
cart,  and  then  Joe  and  Brevet  courteously 
touched  their  caps,  in  true  military  fashion, 
and  old  Jenny  jogged  on. 

"  Miss  Courage  did  she  say  ?  "  asked  Brevet, 
the  moment  they  were  out  of  hearing,  just  as 
Joe  knew  he  would. 

"Yes;  it  soun'  like  dat,  Honey,  but  some 
day  we  must  make  inquiries.  Dere  mus'  be 
some  'splanation  of  a  name  like  dat," 


CHAPTER  IV. 

EVERYBODY  HAPPY. 

"  IT  is  strange  and  beautiful,"  thought  Cour- 
age as  she  moved  busily  about  her  room,  put- 
ting one  thing  and  another  into  a  trunk  that 
stood  open  before  the  fireplace ;  "  strange  and 
beautiful  how  difficulties  take  to  themselves 
wings,  when  you  once  make  up  your  mind 
what  is  right  to  do  and  then  go  straight  ahead 
and  do  it." 

"  Miss  Courage,"  said  a  young  coloured  girl, 
who  was  leaning  over  the  bed  trying  to  fold  a 
black  dress  in  a  fashion  that  should  leave  no 
creases  to  show  for  its  packing,  "  I  felt  all 
along  there  was  nothing  else  for  you  to  do." 

"Then,  Sylvia,  why  did  you  not  say  so?" 
Courage  asked,  a  little  sharply.  "  You  knew 
how  hard  it  was  for  me  to  come  to  any  de- 
cision. It  was  not  because  you  were  afraid  to 
say  so,  was  it  ?  " 

"  Afraid  ?  "  and  a  merry  look  shone  for  a 
moment  in  Sylvia's  eyes.  "  No,  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  ever  could  grow  afraid  of  the  little 
curly-headed  girl  I  used  to  work  for  when  we 


30  Ln^TLE  HOMESPUN. 

were  both  children  together.  No,  indeed ;  it 
was  only  because  I  thought  you  ought  to  see 
it  so  yourself.  It  seemed  as  though  it  was 
just  as  plain  a  duty  as  the  hand  before  your 
face,  and  I  felt  sure  you  would  come  to  it,  as 
you  have,  if  we  only  gave  you  time  enough." 
It  was  a  comfort  to  Courage  to  feel  that 
Sylvia  so  thoroughly  understood  her.  Indeed, 
they  were  far  more  to  each  other  than  mis- 
tress and  maid  ;  they  were  true  friends  these 
t\vo,  whose  only  home  for  a  while  had  been 
Larry  Starr's  brave  lighter,  and  for  both  of 
whom  he  had  cared  in  the  same  kind,  fatherly 
way.  Of  course  you  do  not  understand  about 
Larry  or  Larry's  lighter,  unless  you  have  read 
"  Courage,"  but  then  on  the  other  hand  there 
is  no  reason  why  you  need  to  understand. 
Nor  was  Sylvia  the  only  one  who  approved  of 
what  Courage  had  done.  The  Elversons,  Miss 
Julia's  brother  and  his  wife,  and  with  whom 
Courage  and  Miss  Julia  had  lived,  were  as 
glad  as  glad  could  be  to  have  Courage  carry 
out  Miss  Julia's  plan;  and  so  in  fact  was 
everybody  who  saw  how  sad  and  lonely  Cour- 
age was,  and  what  a  blessing  anything  that 
would  occupy  her  thoughts  must  be  to  her. 
And  so,  in  the  light  of  all  this,  you  can  see  how 
sad  it  would  have  been  if  Courage  had  yielded 
to  her  fears,  and  persistently  turned  away 


E  VEK  YB  OD  Y  HA  PP  Y.  3 1 

from  a  duty,  in  very  truth  as  plain  as  the 
hand  before  your  face,  as  Sylvia  had  put  it. 
But  Courage  had  not  turned  away,  nor  for 
one  instant  wavered  from  the  moment  her  re- 
solve was  taken. 

And  now  at  last  the  day  for  the  start  had 
dawned.  The  little  Bennetts  had  been  awake 
at  sunrise.  Fancy  having  three  months  of 
Christmas  ahead  of  you — for  it  seemed  just  as 
fine  as  that  to  them.  It  was  a  wonder  they  had 
slept  at  all.  They  had  read  about  brooks  and 
hills  and  valleys,  and  woods  where  all  manner 
of  beautiful  wild  things  were  growing  ;  of  herds 
of  cows  grazing  in  grassy  pastures  ;  of  loads  of 
hay  with  children  riding  atop  of  them,  and  of 
the  untold  delights  of  a  hay-loft.  And  now 
they  were  going  to  know  and  enjoy  every  one 
of  these  delights  for  themselves.  Why,  they 
could  not  even  feel  sad  about  leaving  their 
mother,  and  indeed  she  was  as  radiant  as  they 
at  the  thought  of  their  going. 

"You  see,"  she  explained  to  them,  "  I  shall 
have  the  baby  for  company,  and  such  a  beau- 
tiful time  to  rest ;  and  your  father  and  I  will 
take  a  sail  now  and  then  down  the  bay,  or  go 
to  the  park  for  the  day  in  the  very  warm 
weather ;  and  then  it  is  going  to  be  such  a 
comfort  to  have  your  father  home  for  two 
whole  months,  and  that  couldn't  have  happened 


32  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

either,  you  know,  if  you  had  not  been  going 
away  for  the  summer."  The  children's  father, 
Captain  Bennett,  was  one  of  the  pilots  who 
earn  their  living  by  bringing  the  great  ocean 
steamers  into  the  harbour,  and  often  he  would 
be  aboard  the  pilot-boat,  at  sea  for  weeks  at  a 
time,  waiting  his  turn  to  take  the  helm  of  one 
of  the  incoming  steamers,  and  then,  as  like  as 
not,  he  would  have  to  put  straight  to  sea  again, 
for  there  were  many  to  keep,  and  there  was 
need  for  every  hard-earned  dollar.  But  the 
Captain's  chance  for  a  vacation  had  come  with 
the  children's.  He  could  afford  to  take  it, 
since  four  of  his  little  family  were  to  be  pro- 
vided for,  for  the  entire  summer,  and  so  every 
one  was  happy  and  every  one  believed  that 
somehow  Miss  Julia  must  know  and  be  so 
glad  for  them  all. 

But  this  was  the  day  for  the  start,  as  I  told 
you,  and  the  children  had  started.  They  were 
in  the  waiting-room  at  the  foot  of  Cortlandt 
Street,  where  Courage  was  to  meet  them. 

"  And  here  she  is,"  exclaimed  Mary,  with  a 
great  sigh  of  relief,  being  the  first  to  espy 
Courage  coming  through  the  gate  of  the  ferry- 
house,  "  and  doesn't  she  look  lovely  !  "  Mary 
was  right  ;  Courage  did  look  lovely  as,  with 
Sylvia  close  behind  her,  she  walked  the  length 
of  the  waiting-room  to  where  the  little  group 


E  VEK  YB  OD  Y  11APP  Y.  33 

were  standing.  Other  people  thought  so  too, 
as  she  passed,  and  watched  her  with  keenest 
interest.  Her  stylish  black  dress  and  black 
sailor  hat  were  wonderfully  becoming,  and  the 
face  that  had  been  so  pale  and  sad  was  flushed 
with  pleasure  now,  and  with  the  rather  uncom- 
fortable consciousness  that  she  and  her  little 
party  could  scarcely  fail  to  be  the  observed  of 
all  observers.  Mrs.  Bennett  was  there,  of 
course,  to  see  them  off,  and  the  baby  and  the 
Captain,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  eyes 
of  both  father  and  mother  grew  a  little  misty  as 
they  said  "  Good-bye  "  to  their  little  flock.  The 
girl  contingent  was  a  trifle  misty,  too,  but  the 
baby  was  the  only  one  who  really  cried  out- 
right. However,  I  half  believe  that  was  be- 
cause he  wanted  a  banana  that  hung  in  a  fruit 
stand  near  by,  and  not  at  all  because  the  chil- 
dren were  going  to  leave  him  ;  some  babies 
seem  to  have  so  very  little  feeling.  But  now 
it  was  time  to  go  aboard  the  boat,  and  the 
Captain  and  Mrs.  Bennett  saw  the  last  of  the 
little  party  as  they  disappeared  within  the 
ferry-boat  cabin,  and  then  in  fifteen  minutes 
more  the  same  little  party  was  ranged  along 
one  side  of  a  parlor  car  on  the  "  Washington 
Limited  "  ;  then  the  wheels  slowly  and  noise- 
lessly commenced  to  turn  and  they  were  really 
off;  all  of  the  little  party's  hearts  thrilling 


34  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

with  the  thought,  and  all  sitting  up  as  prim  as 
you  please,  in  their  drawing-room  chairs,  quite 
overawed  with  the  magnificence  of  their  sur- 
roundings and  the  unparalleled  importance  of 
the  occasion. 

Courage,  very  much  amused,  watched  them 
for  a  few  moments^  and  then  suggested  that 
they  should  settle  themselves  for  the  journey. 
Bags  were  stowed  away  in  the  racks  overhead, 
coats  and  hats  banished  to  coat  hooks,  and 
one  thing  and  another  properly  adjusted,  un- 
til at  last  four  little  pair  of  hands  having 
placed  four  little  footstools  at  exactly  the 
desired  angle,  four  pair  of  brand-new  russet 
shoes  found  a  resting-place  rather  conspicu- 
ously atop  of  them,  and  the  four  children  leaned 
comfortably  back  in  the  large,  upholstered 
chairs  as  though  now  at  last  permanently  es- 
tablished for  the  entire  length  of  the  journey. 
But  of  course  no  amount  of  adjusting  and 
arranging  really  meant  anything  of  that  sort, 
or  that  they  could  be  able  to  sit  still  for  more 
than  five  minutes  at  a  time,  and  Courage  and 
Sylvia  soon  had  to  put  their  wits  to  work  to 
think  up  ways  of  keeping  the  restless  little  com- 
pany in  some  sort  of  order.  But  fortunately 
none  of  the  fellow-passengers  appeared  dis- 
turbed thereby.  On  the  contrary,  they  seemed 
very  much  interested,  and  finally  a  handsome 


E  VER  YB OD  Y  HAPPY.  35 

old  gentleman  came  down  the  aisle,  and  leaning 
over  the  chair  in  which  Courage  was  sitting, 
said  courteously, 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  if  you  will  pardon  an 
old  man's  curiosity,  and  do  not  for  any  reason 
mind  telling  me,  I  should  very  much  like  to 
know  what  you  are  doing,  and  where  you  are 
going  with  this  little  family?  " 

"  And  I  am  very  glad  to  tell  you,"  answered 
Courage  cordially,  for  since  that  summer  spent 
with  Larry  there  had  always  been  such  a  very 
warm  corner  in  her  heart  for  all  old  people ;  and 
Teddy,  who  was  sitting  next  to  Courage,  had 
the  grace  to  offer  the  old  gentleman  a  chair. 
Then  for  some  time  he  listened  intently,  his 
kind  old  face  glowing  with  pleasure  as  Courage 
told  him  all  about  the  children,  and  finally  of 
the  cosy  little  cottage  awaiting  their  coming 
down  in  Virginia. 

"  But  in  doing  all  this,"  Courage  concluded, 
"  I  am  simply  carrying  out  the  plans  of  my 
dearest  friend,  Miss  Julia  Everett." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  mean  it  !  "  the  old  gentle- 
man exclaimed,  his  voice  trembling.  "  I  knew 
Miss  Everett  well.  She  always  stopped  with 
me  when  she  came  to  Washington." 

"  Can  it  be  that  you  are  old  Colonel  Ander- 
son ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  Colonel  Anderson,  and  I  suppose 


36  LITTLE  HOMESPUtf. 

I  am  old,"  he  added,  smiling ;  "  and  can  it  be 
you  are  young  Miss  Courage,  of  whom  I  have 
heard  so  often  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  Courage,  but  you  will  excuse  me, 
won't  you,  for  speaking  as  I  did  ?  I  only  had 
happened  to  hear  Miss  Julia " 

Courage  hesitated. 

"Oh,  yes,  dear  child,  I  understand  perfectly. 
You  used  to  hear  Miss  Julia  speak  of  me  as 
old  Colonel  Anderson,  and  so  I  am,  and  I  am 
not  ashamed  of  it  either,  although  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  tease  you  a  little,  which 
was  very  rude  of  me.  But  now,  can  it  be  that 
it  is  to  Miss  Julia's  estate  near  Arlington  that 
you  are  going — to  the  home  that  her  Uncle 
Everett  left  her  when  she  was  just  a  little 
slip  of  a  girl,  years  before  the  war?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  exactly  where,  but  I  have  never 
seen  it." 

"  Well,  you  will  love  it  when  you  do.  It  is 
the  dearest  little  spot  in  the  world.  I  will 
.drive  out  some  clay  and  take  luncheon  with 
you  and  the  children,  if  I  should  happen  to 
have  an  invitation.  I  could  tell  you  some  in- 
teresting things  about  the  old  place." 

"  Oh,  will  you  come  ?  "  exclaimed  Mary  and 
Gertrude  in  one  breath,  for  with  a  curiosity  as 
pardonable,  I  think,  as  that  of  old  Mr.  Ander- 
son, all  of  the  children  had  grouped  themselves 


E  VER YBOD  Y  HAPPY.  37 

about  Courage,  and  had  listened  with  keenest 
interest  to  every  word  spoken.  And  so  one 
more  happy  anticipation  was  added  to  the 
many  with  which  their  happy  hearts  were 
overflowing. 

At  last  the  train  steamed  into  Washington, 
although  at  times  it  had  seemed  to  the  children 
as  though  it  never  would,  and  then  a  carriage 
was  soon  secured,  and,  three  on  a  seat,  the 
little  party  crowded  into  it,  and  they  were  off 
for  their  eight  mile  drive  to  Arlington. 


CHAPTER  V. 
HOW'DY. 

AND  meantime  what  excitement  in  the  lit- 
tle cottage  down  in  Virginia  !  Everything 
was  in  readiness  and  everybody  was  on  the  tip- 
toe of  expectation.  Everybody  meant  Mary 
Duff,  (it  was  she,  you  know,  who  had  cared  for 
little  Courage  through  all  her  babyhood,  and 
who  had  been  sent  down  to  get  everything  in 
order),  and  besides  Mary  Duff,  Mary  Ann  the 
cook,  old  Joe  and  Brevet. 

It  must  be  confessed,  Brevet  had  had  a  lit- 
tle difficulty  in  winning  his  grandmother's 
consent  to  this  visit,  but  he  had  been  able  to 
meet  every  objection  with  such  convincing 
arguments,  that  he  had  come  off  victor  in  the 
encounter. 

"You  see,  Grand/wna,"  he  had  confiden- 
tially explained,  with  his  pretty  little  half- 
southern,  half-darkey  accent,  "I  is  a  perfec' 
stranger  to  them  now  I  know,  but  then  every- 
thing is  strange  to  them  down  here,  so  don't 
you  s'pose  it  would  be  nice  for  me  to  be  right 
there  waiting  at  the  gate,  where  I  can  call  out 


HOWDY.  39 

'  How'dy'  just  so  soon  as  ever  they  come  in 
sight,  and  so  for  me  not  to  be  a  stranger  to 
them  more'n  the  first  minute,  and  have  them 
find  there  are  folks  here  who  are  very  glad  to 
know  them  right  from  the  start?  Besides,  the 
lady — Mary  Duff  was  her  name — told  me  she 
just  knew  those  little  Bennetts  would  love  to 
see  me,  and  that  she  would  surely  expect  me 
down  to-day  for  certain." 

And  so  "  Grandnana  "  succumbed,  not  hav- 
ing the  heart  to  nip  such  noble  hospitality  in 
the  bud,  and  at  two  o'clock  precisely,  the 
best  carriage  wheeled  up  to  the  door  and 
Mammy  and  Brevet  were  quickly  stowed 
away  within  it,  to  say  nothing  of  a  basketful 
of  good  things  covered  with  a  huge  napkin  of 
fine  old  damask.  But  who  is  Mammy  ?  you 
ask,  and  indeed  you  should  have  been  told 
pages  ago,  for  no  one  for  many  years  had 
been  half  so  important  as  Mammy  in  the 
Ellis  household.  She  is  an  old  negro  woman, 
almost  as  old  as  Joe  himself,  and  when  on 
the  first  of  January,  1863,  President  Lincoln 
issued  the  proclamation  that  made  all  the 
slaves  free,  she  was  among  the  first  to  turn 
her  back  upon  the  plantation  where  she  was 
raised,  and  make  her  way  to  Washington. 
It  was  there  that  Mrs.  Ellis  had  found  her, 
when  in  search  of  a  nurse  for  her  two  little 


4o  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

boys,  and  from  that  day  to  this  she  has  been 
the  faithful  worshipper  of  the  whole  Ellis 
family.  Now  in  her  old  age  her  one  and  only 
duty  has  been  to  care  for  Brevet,  a  care  con- 
stantly lessening  as  that  little  fellow  daily 
proves  his  ability  to  look  out  more  and  more 
for  himself. 

Brevet  was  not  to  be  allowed,  however,  on 
the  occasion  of  this  first  visit  to  their  new 
neighbours,  to  make  the  trip  alone.  "  Grand- 
;wna"  had  been  very  firm  about  that,  somewhat 
to  his  chagrin,  and  so,  if  the  truth  be  told, 
Mammy's  presence  in  the  comfortable,  old- 
fashioned  carriage  was  at  first  simply  tolerated. 
But  that  state  of  affairs  did  not  last  long. 
Try  as  he  would,  Brevet  was  too  happy  at 
heart  to  cherish  any  grievance,  imaginary  or 
otherwise,  for  many  minutes  together;  and 
soon  he  and  Mammy  were  chatting  away  in 
the  merriest  fashion,  and  the  old  nurse  was 
looking  forward  to  the  unusual  excitement 
of  the  day,  with  quite  as  much  expectation 
as  her  little  charge  of  seven.  Had  she  not 
devoted  the  leisure  of  two  long  mornings  of 
preparation  to  the  shelling  of  almonds  and  the 
stoning  of  raisins,  and  then  when  the  day 
came,  with  eager  trembling  hands,  packed  all 
the  good  things  away  in  the  great,  roomy 
hamper  that  seemed  now  to  look  at  her  so 


HOWDY..  41 

complacently  from  the  opposite  seat  of  the 
phaeton  ?  Yes,  indeed,  it  was  every  whit  as 
glad  a  day  for  Mammy  as  Brevet,  and  she 
peered  out  from  the  carriage  just  as  anxiously 
as  they  drove  up  to  the  gate  and  Mary  Duff 
came  out  to  greet  them.  But  Mammy  had 
something  to  say  before  making  any  motion 
to  leave  the  carriage. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure,  Miss,  dat  dis  yere 
little  pickaninny  of  ours  ain't  gwine  to  be  in 
any  one's  way  or  nuffin  ?  "  she  asked,  bowing  a 
how-do-you-do  to  Mary,  and  keeping  a  re- 
straining hand  upon  Brevet. 

"  Oh,  perfectly  sure." 

"  He  done  told  us  you  wanted  him  very 
much,"  but  in  a  half-questioning  tone,  as 
though  what  Brevet  "  done  told  them  "  was 
sometimes  "  suspicioned "  of  being  slightly 
coloured  by  what  he  himself  would  like  to  do, 
notwithstanding  his  general  high  standard  of 
truthfulness. 

"  Brevet  is  perfectly  right — we  do  want  him 
very  much,"  Mary  answered,  heartily. 

"  Even  if  you  have  to  take  his  old  Mammy 
'long  wid  him,  kase  Miss  Lindy  wasn't  quite 
willin  to  'low  him  ter  come  by  hisself?" 

"And  we're  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mammy," 
Mary  answered  cordially,  and  so  the  last  of 
Mammy's  scruples,  which  were  not  as  real  as. 


42  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

Mammy  herself  tried  to  think  them,  were  put 
to  rest,  and  Brevet  was  permitted  to  scramble 
out  of  the  carriage,  while  Mary  Duff  lent  a 
hand  to  Mammy's  more  difficult  alighting. 

"  Is  dere  ere  a  man  'bout  could  lift  dis  yere 
basket  tcr  de  house  for  us  ?  "  she  asked,  look- 
ing helplessly  up  to  the  hamper,  "  kase  Daniel 
dere  has  instructions  from  de  Missus  neber  to 
leave  de  hosses  less'n  dere  ain't  no  way  to 
help  it." 

"Well,  I  guess  dere  is,"  chuckled  a  familiar 
voice  behind  her  back,  and  Mammy  turned  to 
discover  Joe  close  beside  her. 

"  Well,  I  klar,  you  heah  !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Why,  it  seems  like  de  whole  county  turn  out 
to  welcome  dese  yere  little  Bennetts.  Seems, 
too,  like  some  of  us  goin'  to  be  in  de  way  sure 
'nuff." 

"  Howsomever,  some  on  us  don'  take  up  so 
much  room  as  oders,"  grunted  Joe,  surmising, 
and  quite  correctly,  too,  that  Mammy  con- 
sidered his  presence  on  the  scene  something 
wholly  unnecessary  and  undesirable.  "  Fse 
heah  to  help  wid  de  trunks,  Mammy,"  he  then 
added  ;  "  what  you  heah  to  help  wid  ?  " 

Mammy,  scorning  the  insinuation,  turned  to 
Mary  Duff  as  they  walked  up  the  path. 

"  You  know,  Honey,  de  Lord  ain't  lef  no 
choice  ter  most  on  us  as  ter  what  size  we'll  be, 


''  NO  CHOICE."— Page 42. 


HOWDY.  43 

but  pears  like  you'd  better  be  a  fat  ole  Mammy 
like  me,  than  such  a  ole  bag  o'  bones  as  Joe 
yonder," 

But  Joe  by  that  time  was  depositing  his 
basket  in  the  hall-way  of  the  cottage,  and  was 
fortunately  quite  beyond  the  fire  of  this  per- 
sonal attack.  Mary  Duff  was  naturally  much 
amused  at  the  real  but  harmless  jealousy  of 
these  old  coloured  folk,  and  realised  for  per- 
haps the  five  hundredth  time  what  children 
we  all  are,  be  race  and  nationality  what  they 
may. 

Meantime  Brevet  had  taken  his  position  on 
the  top  rail  of  the  gate,  with  one  arm  around 
a  slim  little  cedar  that  stood  guard  beside  it. 

"  May  I  stand  right  out  here,  Miss  Duff,"  he 
called  back  to  Mary,  "  so  as  to  see  them  a  long 
way  off  ?  " 

"  Bless  your  heart,  yes !  "  Mary  answered, 
quite  certain  in  her  mind  that  since  Courage 
herself  was  a  little  girl  she  never  had  seen 
such  a  dear  child.  Brevet's  watch  was  a  brief 
one. 

"They  are  coming!  Hear  the  wheels! 
They  are  coming,"  he  cried  exultingly,  with 
almost  the  next  breath.  In  just  two  minutes 
more  they  really  had  come,  and  Brevet  was 
calling  out  "  How'dy,  how'dy,  how'dy  "  at  the 
top  of  his  strong  little  lungs,  to  the  wide-eyed 


44  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

amazement  of  the  Bennetts,  who  had  never 
heard  this  Southern  abbreviation  of  the 
Northern  "  How-do-you-do."  Then  jumping 
down  from  his  perch,  he  ran  up  to  the  carriage, 
repeating  over  again  his  cordial  welcoming 
"  How'dy." 

"  How'dy,  dear  little  stranger!"  replied 
Courage,  waving  a  greeting  to  Mary  ;  "  and  who 
are  you  I  would  like  to  know  ?  " 

"I'm  Howard  Stanhope  Ellis,  but  that's  not 
what  you're  to  call  me,  1  have  another  name. 
It's  the  name  they  give — "  but  he  did  not 
finish  his  sentence,  for  charming  little  fellow 
though  he  was,  he  could  not  be  allowed  to  mo- 
nopolise things  in  this  fashion,  and  Mary  gently 
pushed  him  aside  to  get  him  out  of  her  way. 

"  And  so  here  you  are  at  last,"  she  said  joy- 
ously ;  "  welcome  home,  Miss  Courage.  How 
are  you,  Sylvia?  "  while  she  bent  down  with  a 
cordial  kiss  for  each  friendly  little  Bennett. 
Meantime  Courage  was  making  friends  with 
Brevet,  and  a  moment  later  the  children  were 
crowding  close  about  him. 

"  My,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you  all,"  he  ex- 
claimed, with  an  emphasising  shake  of  his 
head,  "and  I  think  I  know  who's  who  too.  I 
believe  this  is  Gertrude,"  laying  one  little 
brown  hand  on  Gertrude's  sleeve,  "  and  you 
are  Mary,  because  Mary's  the  oldest,  and  you 


HOWDY.  45 

Teddy,  because  Teddy  comes  next,  and  you — 
you  are  Allan."  Brevet  had  learned  his  lesson 
from  Mary  Duff  quite  literally  by  heart,  and 
altogether  vanquished  by  his  joyous,  friendly 
greeting,  the  children  vied  with  each  other  in 
giving  him  the  loudest  kiss  and  the  very  hard- 
est hug,  but  from  that  first  moment  of  meet- 
ing it  was  an  accepted  fact  that  Allan  held 
first  place.  There  was  no  gainsaying  the 
special  joyousness  of  his  "And  you — you  are 
Allan."  The  boy  play-fellow  for  whom  he 
had  hitherto  longed  in  vain  had  come,  and  to 
little  Brevet  it  seemed  as  though  the  millen- 
nium had  come  with  him. 

All  this  while  Joe  and  Mammy,  barely  tol- 
erating each  other's  presence,  waited  respect- 
fully in  the  background,  so  that  Mary  had  a 
chance  to  explain  who  they  were,  as  Courage 
stood  in  the  path,  delightedly  looking  up  at 
the  dear  little  house  that  was  to  be  her  home. 
But  Sylvia  had  already  made  their  acquaint- 
ance. After  paying  the  driver  and  making 
sure  that  nothing  had  been  left  in  the  carriage, 
she  went  straight  toward  them.  "  I  thought 
I  should  find  some  of  my  own  people  down 
here  in  Virginia,"  she  said,  cordially  extend- 
ing a  hand  to  each  as  she  spoke,  "  but  I  did 
not  expect  they  would  be  right  on  the  spot, 
the  very  first  moment,  to  welcome  me." 


46  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

"  Miss  Duff  done  tol'  us  'bout  Miss  Sylvy 
bein'  of  de  party,"  said  Joe  with  great  elegance 
of  manner,  while  Mammy  looked  daggers  at 
him,  for  replying  to  a  remark  which  she  con- 
sidered addressed  chiefly  to  herself.  It  was 
queer  enough,  the  attitude  of  these  two  old- 
time  slaves  toward  each  other,  and  yet  to  be 
accounted  for,  I  think,  in  their  eagerness  to  be 
of  use  to  those  whom  they  claimed  the  privilege 
of  serving  ;  and  each  was  conscious,  by  a  subtle 
intuition,  of  a  determination  to  outwit  the 
other  if  possible  in  this  regard — which  was  all 
very  well,  if  they  only  could  have  competed 
in  the  right  sort  of  spirit. 

But  there  is  no  more  time  in  this  chapter  for 
Mammy  or  Joe,  nor  anything  else  for  that 
matter.  Indeed,  it  would  take  quite  a  chapter 
of  itself  if  I  should  try  to  tell  you  of  the  un- 
packing of  Grandma  Ellis's  basket,  and  then 
of  the  children's  merry  supper ;  but  it  seems 
to  me  there  are  more  important  things  for  me 
to  write  about,  and  for  you  to  read  about,  than 
things  to  eat  and  of  how  the  children  ate  them. 
By  nine  o'clock  quiet  reigned  in  the  little  cot- 
tage, and  "  the  children  were  nestled  as  snug 
in  their  beds  "  as  the  little  folk  in  "  The  Night 
before  Christmas."  Joe  and  Mammy  and 
Brevet  had  long  ago  gone  home,  and  Courage 
and  Mary  Duff  were  sitting  together  in  the 


BREVET   HAD  TAKEN    HIS  POSITION."— Page  43. 


HOWDY.  47 

little  living-room,  while  Sylvia,  in  the  hall  just 
outside,  was  busy  arranging  the  books  they 
had  brought  with  them,  on  some  hanging 
shelves. 

"  I  think  this  has  been  the  happiest  day  in 
all  my  life,"  said  Courage.  "  I  have  simply  for- 
gotten everything  in  the  pleasure  of  those 
children."  And  then,  sitting  down  at  the  little 
cottage  piano  and  running  her  hands  for  a  few 
moments  over  the  keys,  she  sang  softly, — 

"  For  all  the  Saints,  who  from  their  labour  rest, 
Thy  name,  O  Jesus,  be  forever  blest." 

The  sweet,  familiar  hymn  brought  Sylvia  to 
the  door. 

"  Miss  Courage,"  she  said,  standing  with 
her  arms  folded  behind  her  back,  as  she  had 
always  a  way  of  standing  when  deeply  in- 
terested, "you  have  forgotten  yourself  and 
your  sorrow  to-day,  but  not  for  one  moment 
have  you  really  forgotten  Miss  Julia,"  and 
Courage  knew  that  this  was  true,  and  closed 
the  little  piano  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  a 
wondrous  joy  and  peace  in  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ARLINGTON   BEFORE   THE   WAR. 

No  sooner  were  our  little  New  Yorkers  set- 
tled in  their  pretty  summer  home  than  they 
naturally  desired  that  it  should  have  a  name, 
and  after  much  discussion,  according  to  the 
Bennett  custom,  they  all  agreed  that  "  Little 
Homespun,"  one  of  the  names  that  Courage 
had  suggested,  seemed  to  fit  the  cosy,  unpre- 
tentious little  home  better  than  anything  else 
that  had  been  thought  of.  No  sooner  were 
they  settled  either  before  they  became  friends 
firm  and  fast  of  the  household  up  at  Ellismere. 
It  needed  but  very  little  time  to  bring  that 
about,  because  everything  was — to  use  a  big 
word  because  no  smaller  one  will  do — pro- 
pitious. You  can  imagine  what  it  meant  to 
Courage — taking  up  her  home  in  a  new  land, 
and  with  cares  wholly  new  to  her — to  have  a 
dear  old  lady  like  Grandma  Ellis  call  upon 
her,  as  she  did  the  very  first  morning  after 
her  arrival.  Of  course  Courage  had  to  explain 
how  it  was  she  had  come  way  down  there  to 
Virginia  with  the  little  Bennett  children  in 


ARLINGTON  BEFORE  THE  WAR.  49 

charge.  Indeed,  almost  before  she  knew  it, 
and  in  answer  to  Grandma  Ellis's  gentle  in- 
quiries, she  had  told  her  all  there  was  to  tell — 
about  Miss  Julia,  about  herself  and  Mary  Duff 
and  Sylvia,  and  finally,  as  always  with  any 
new  friend,  the  why  and  wherefore  of  her  own 
unusual  name.  The  tears  stood  in  Grandma 
Ellis's  eyes  many  times  during  the  narration, 
and  her  face  was  aglow  with  love  and  sympa- 
thy and  admiration  as  Courage  brought  her 
story  to  a  close. 

"  And  now,  my  dear,"  she  had  said,  "  I  want 
you  should  know  what  little  there  is  to  tell 
about  us.  We  live  just  three  miles  from  here, 
and  in  the  same  old  Virginia  homestead  where 
my  husband  was  born.  We,  means  my  son 
Harry,  and  Brevet  and  myself.  Brevet,  as 
you  already  know,  perhaps,  has  neither  father 
nor  mother.  His  mother  died  when  he  was 
six  months  old,  and  his  father,  my  oldest  son, 
was  drowned  when  the  Utopia  went  down,  off 
the  coast  of  Spain  five  years  ago.  We  are  do- 
ing our  best,  Harry  and  I,  to  make  up  to 
Brevet  for  his  great  loss  ;  but  it  is  sad  that  the 
little  fellow  should  only  know  the  love  of  an 
old  grandmama  like  me,  and  never  of  his  own 
young  mother.  But  I  do  not  want  to  burden 
you  with  my  sorrows,  dear  child  ;  I  only  want 
you  to  know  we  must  all  be  the  best  of  friends 


50  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

the  whole  summer  through.  It  seems  to  me 
we  just  need  each  other,  and  in  order  to  com- 
mence right,  you  must  all  come  and  spend  the 
day  with  us  to-morrow." 

And  on  the  morrow  they  all  did  go  up  to 
-Ellismere,  Mary  Duff  and  Sylvia  with  the 
others ;  the  children  went  again  the  day  after 
that,  and  then  all  hands  from  Ellismere  came 
down  to  Homespun  for  the  day,  and  so  what 
with  constant  coming  and  going  from  one 
house  to  the  other,  in  just  two  weeks'  time  it 
was  as  though  they  had  known  each  other  al- 
ways. And  then  it  was  that  Joe  arranged 
with  Courage  for  the  day  to  be  spent  at  Ar- 
lington. 

"  The  Ellis's  will  all  come,"  Joe  explained, 
"  Mammy  wid  de  res'  of  'em,  I  suppose,"  (but 
very  much  as  though  he  preferred  she  should 
not)  "and  I  done  wish  de  Colonel  could  be 
persuaded  to  drive  out  from  Washington,  case 
'tween  us  we  knows  mos'  dere  is  of  interest 
happened  at  Arlington.  He  use'  to  visit  at 
de  big  house  when  General  Lee  lived  in  it  'fo' 
de  wah,  an'  I  was  a  slave  on  de  place." 

"  You  don't  mean  Colonel  Anderson,  do  you, 
Joe?" 

"  De  berry  same,  Miss." 

"  Well,  then,  of  course  he'll  come.  He  is  an 
old,  old  friend  of  Miss  Julia's.  I  met  him  on 


'SHE   HAD  TOLL)   HER  ALL  THERE   WAS   To   TELL." — Page  49. 


ARLINGTON  BEFORE  THE  WAR.  51 

the  train  when  we  came  down  and  he  asked 
me  to  invite  him  out  some  time,"  and  so  Cour- 
age wrote  a  note  of  invitation  that  very  day 
which  Joe,  with  his  own  hands,  carried  into 
Washington.  It  was  written  on  pretty  blue 
paper,  which  had  "  Homespun  "  engraved  at 
the  top  of  the  sheet  and  Tiffany's  mark  on 
the  envelope  as  well.  It  must  be  confessed 
that  Courage  had  a  little  extravagant  streak 
in  her;  that  is,  she  loved  to  have  everything 
just  about  as  nearly  right  as  she  could.  Sis- 
ter Julia  had  encouraged  the  little  streak,  know- 
ing the  peculiar  pleasure  that  the  reasonable 
indulgence  of  a  refined  taste  brings  into  life, 
"  but,  dear,"  she  had  often  said  to  Courage, 
"  there  is  one  thing  to  look  out  for,  and 
that  is  that  the  more  you  gratify  your  own 
taste  the  more  you  must  give  to  the  peo- 
ple who  have  no  taste  at  all,  or  very  little  of 
anything  that  makes  life  enjoyable,"  all  of 
which  good  advice  Courage  had  taken  to  heart 
and  remembered.  But  extravagant  streak  or 
no,  the  stylish  little  blue  note  accomplished 
its  purpose,  for  at  precisely  nine  o'clock  the 
next  morning  Colonel  Anderson  wheeled  up 
at  Joe's  cabin,  in  his  high,  old-fashioned  car- 
riage, and  at  almost  the  same  moment  arrived 
the  Homespun  buckboard  with  its  load  of 
eight  (for  Sylvia  and  Mary  Duff  were  to  be  in 


52  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

as  many  good  times  as  possible)  and  a  moment 
later  Grandma  Ellis,  Harry,  Brevet  and  old 
Mammy  drove  upon  the  scene. 

"  Now,  how  would  we  best  manage  things, 
Joe?"  asked  Colonel  Anderson,  after  every- 
body had  had  a.  little  chat  with  everybody 
else,  and  luncheon  baskets  and  wraps  had  been 
safely  stowed  away  in  Joe's  cabin. 

"  Well,  seems  ter  me  we'd  better  take  a  look 
over  de  house  first,  den  take  a  stroll  through 
de  groun's  an'  come  back  to  de  shade  of  dat 
ol'  ches'nut  yonder  for  de  story.  You  can't 
make  a  story  bery  interestin'  when  you  hab  a 
walkin'  aujence,  an'  de  aujence  what's  walkin' 
can't  catch  on  ter  de  story  bery  well  either." 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  this  suggestion  was 
a  wise  one,  so  with  the  exception  of  Grandma 
Ellis  and  Mammy,  for  whom  comfortable  rock- 
ing-chairs were  at  once  placed  under  the 
chestnut  tree,  the  little  party  made  its  way 
into  the  old  colonial  house. 

"Arlington  House  is  rather  a  cheerless  look- 
ing place  now,  I  admit,"  sighed  Colonel  Ander- 
son, as  they  walked  through  the  large  empty 
rooms,  "  but  wait  till  we  have  the  story  and 
we'll  fill  it  full  enough." 

"  Yes,  but  don't  let  us  wait  any  longer  than 
we  have  to,"  answered  Courage,  and  as  this 
was  the  sentiment  of  the  entire  party,  they 


ARLINGTON  BEFORE  THE  WAR.  53 

hurried  from  the  house  for  the  walk  that  was 
to  follow.  The  four  little  Bennetts  kept  close 
to  each  other  all  the  way,  Mary,  the  eldest, 
leading  little  Gertrude  by  the  hand.  They 
were  very  quiet,  too,  wondering  and  overawed 
by  the  unbroken  lines  of  graves  on  every  side. 

"  I  wonder  if  Teddy  and  I  will  have  to  go  to 
a  war  when  we  grow  up,"  said  Allan  at  last, 
half  under  his  breath,  with  a  perceptible  little 
shiver  and  as  though  barely  mustering  courage 
to  speak. 

"  We'll  go  if  there  is  a  war,  I  can  tell  you 
that,"  Teddy  replied,  rather  scornfully. 

"  Then  we'll  be  buried  here,  I  suppose,"  and 
Allan  shook  his  head  hopelessly,  as  though 
standing  that  moment  at  the  foot  of  their  two 
soldier-graves. 

"And  so  will  I,"  affirmed  Brevet,  who  had 
kept  his  place  close  beside  his  favourite  Allan 
from  the  start.  "  I'll  speak  to  be  buried  right 
by  both  of  you,  too,  just  as  though  I  was  one 
of  your  family,"  and  Brevet  stood  as  he  spoke 
with  his  arms  folded  and  his  brows  knit,  in 
solemn  and  soldier-like  fashion. 

Now  and  then  the  little  party  would  group 
itself  around  Colonel  Anderson  as  he  read  the 
inscription  from  some  monument  or  head- 
stone, telling  of  the  valour  of  the  man  whose 
grave  it  marked  and  often  of  the  brave  deed 


54  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

dared  that  cost  the  hero  his  life.  And  so 
some  idea  was  gained  of  the  beauty  and  sig- 
nificance of  the  great  soldier  cemetery,  and 
then  all  hurried  back  to  Grandma  Ellis,  and 
Colonel  Anderson  began  his  story. 

An  odd  assortment  of  rush-bottomed  chairs 
had  been  brought  from  Joe's  cabin  for  the 
grown-ups,  and  the  children  were  scattered 
about  on  shawls  and  carriage  rugs  on  the 
ground. 

"  Now,  it  isn't  easy,"  said  Colonel  Anderson 
thoughtfully,  "  to  know  just  where  to  com- 
mence." 

"  Den  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Joe,  who  was  seated 
at  the  Colonel's  elbow.  "  Dere  ain't  no  such 
proper  place  ter  begin  as  at  de  beginnin'. 
Tell  'em  as  how  der  was  a  time  when  Arling- 
ton was  a  great  unbroken  forest,  an'  how  way 
back  early  in  de  eighteen  hundreds,  George 
Washington  Parke  Custis  came  by  de  Ian' 
through  his  father  and  built  Arlington 
House." 

"  If  you  are  going  as  far  back  as  that,  Joe, 
you  ought  to  go  farther,  and  tell  how  there 
was  an  old  house  here  even  before  this  one, 
which  was  built  way  back  early  in  the  seven- 
teen hundreds.  It  was  a  little  house,  with 
only  four  rooms,  and  it  stood  down  yonder 
near  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  was  bought 


ARLINGTON  BEFORE  THE  WAR.  55 

with  the  land  by  John  Custis  from  the  Alex- 
anders. John  Custis,  you  know,  children,  was 
Martha  Washington's  son,  for  she  was  a  widow 
with  two  children  when  she  married  General 
Washington  ;  and  George  Washington  Parke 
Custis,  who  lived  for  awhile  in  the  little  house 
before  he  built  this  beautiful  big  one,  was  her 
grandson.  He  was  a  fortunate  young  fellow, 
as  the  world  counts  being  fortunate,  for  he 
had  more  money  than  he  knew  what  to  do 
with.  As  soon  as  this  fine  house  was  com- 
pleted, George  Custis  was  married  and  brought 
his  bride  to  his  new  home,  where  for  the  next 
fifty  years  they  lived  the  most  happy  and  con- 
tented life  imaginable.  They  had  one  daugh- 
ter, a  very  beautiful  young  lady,  as  I  myself 
clearly  remember,  for  my  birthday  and  her 
wedding-day  fell  together,  and  that  was  why  I 
was  allowed  to  attend  the  wedding.  My 
mother  and  Miss  Mollie's  mother  were  the 
warmest  friends,  but  I  was  only  a  boy  of  ten, 
and  would  have  been  left  at  home,  I  think,  but 
for  the  coincidence  of  the  birthday.  I  re- 
member my  mother  told  me  Miss  Custis  said 
she  would  like  me  always  to  think  of  her 
wedding-day,  when  my  birthday  came  round, 
and  I  can  tell  you,  children,  I  always  do,  even 
though  I  am  an  old  man  and  have  started  in 
the  seventies." 


56  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

"An'  so  do  I,"  chimed  in  Joe;  "I  neber 
done  think  of  one  without  de  oder,  so  closely 
are  dey  'sociated  in  my  min'." 

"Why,  were  you  there  too,  Joe?"  asked 
Brevet,  with  a  merry  little  twinkle  in  his  eyes, 
for  if  there  was  one  story  more  often  told  than 
any  other  for  Brevet's  edification,  it  was  the 
story  of  Miss  Mary  Custis's  wedding. 

"  Sho'  as  yo'  born,  Honey,"  quite  overlook- 
ing Brevet's  insinuation  in  his  absorbing  inter- 
est in  the  subject.  "  It  was  a  bery  busy  day 
for  me,  de  day  Miss  Mollie  was  married." 

"How  ole  was  you,  Joe,  'bout  dat  time?" 
asked  Mammy,  her  old  eyes  a-twinkle  with 
mischief  as  well  as  Brevet's,  for  Joe's  age,  as 
every  one  knew,  was  a  mere  matter  of  guess- 
work, so  careful  was  he  that  no  one  should 
ever  come  to  a  knowledge  of  the  same. 

"  Seems  ter  me  dat  question  ain't  no  wise 
relavent,"  replied  Joe,  bristling  up  a  little, 
"  but  de  Colonel  and  I  warn't  so  bery  far  apart 
when  we  was  chilluns." 

"  Why,  were  you  friends  then  ?  "  asked  Allan 
Bennett. 

"  Well,  that  day  made  us  friends,"  answered 
Colonel  Anderson,  "  and  this  was  the  way  it 
happened.  Everything  was  ready  for  the 
wedding.  As  many  of  the  guests  as  it  would 
hold  were  assembled  in  the  drawing-room,  the 


ARLINGTON  BEFORE  THE  WAR.  57 

room  on  the  left  of  the  front  door  there  as 
you  go  in,  but  the  clergyman  had  not  arrived. 
Then  it  was  that  Mr.  Custis, 'beginning  to  grow 
nervous,  called  to  Joe  there,  who  stood  on  the 
porch,  as  fine  as  silk  in  his  best  clothes  and 
white  cotton  gloves,  ready  to  open  the  carriage 
doors  for  the  guests  as  they  arrived. 

"  '  Joe,'  called  Mr.  Custis,  '  run  down  the 
road,  and  see  if  you  see  a  sign  of  a  carriage 
anywhere  in  sight,'  and,  children,  what  do 
you  suppose  Joe  did?  Well,  he  just  stood 
stock  still,  looking  down  at  his  bright  polished 
boots,  and  he  never  budged  an  inch." 

"  It's  de  truf,"  said  Joe,  shaking  his  head 
regretfully,  for  the  children  were  looking  to 
him  for  confirmation  of  the  story. 

"  You  see  the  boots  were  very  shiny,"  con- 
tinued the  Colonel,  in  a  tone  of  apology  for 
Joe,  "and  the  roads  were  very  very  muddy, 
so  that  he  just  couldn't  bring  himself  to  do  it. 
Fortunately  for  Joe,  I  imagine,  Mr.  Custis  had 
not  waited  to  see  him  start,  taking  for  granted, 
of  course,  that  he  would  obey  at  once,  and  then 
what  did  I  do  but  spring  down  the  steps  and 
run  on  Joe's  errand  for  him,  only  too  thankful 
if  I  could  do  anything  to  prove  my  gratitude 
for  being  allowed  to  be  present  at  that,  to  me, 
greatest  of  occasions.  I  had  to  wait  less  than 
five  minutes  before  I  discovered  the  open 


58  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

chaise,  which  had  been  sent  into  Washington 
to  bring  the  dominie,  tearing  up  the  road. 

"  '  They're  coming,  they'll  be  here  in  a  min- 
ute,' I  called,  hurrying  back  to  Joe,  and  then 
he  rushed  away  in  his  new  shiny  boots  and 
delivered  my  message  to  Mr.  Custis,  pretend- 
ing, as  the  rogue  confessed  to  me  afterward, 
to  be  quite  out  of  breath  from  the  haste  with 
which  he  had  come.  And  then  in  the  next 
moment  Mr.  Meade,  for  that  was  the  clergy- 
man's name,  was  really  there,  but  he  came  in 
at  the  back  door  and  slipped  upstairs  as  quickly 
as  he  could,  followed  by  Joe  and  myself.  You 
see  he  had  driven  right  into  the  heart  of  a 
heavy  thunder  shower,  just  outside  of  Wash- 
ington, and  was  drenched  to  the  skin.  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  that  he  must  make  a 
change  of  clothing  as  quickly  as  he  could,  so 
Joe,  who  knew  where  Mr.  Custis  kept  his 
clothes,  ran  hither  and  thither,  bringing  one 
article  after  another,  and  I  helped  the  minister 
into  them — but  my,  how  he  did  look!  Mr. 
Custis  was  short  and  stout,  and  Mr.  Meade  was 
tall  and  thin,  and  I  didn't  see  how  any  one 
could  keep  their  faces  straight  with  such  a  guy 
of  a  minister.  They  couldn't  have  done  it 
either,  if  they  had  seen  how  he  looked,  could 
they,  Joe?  " 

"  No,  Colonel,  not  for  a  minute,"  chuckled 
Joe. 


ARLINGTON  BEFORE  THE  WAR.  59 

"But  why  didn't  they  see?"  questioned 
eager  little  Allan. 

"  Why,  because,  of  course,  he  had  brought 
his  gown  with  him,  and  it  covered  him  all  up," 
for  Brevet,  able  to  anticipate  much  of  the 
familiar  story,  was  glad  to  have  a  hand  in  its 
telling. 

"  I  wish  you  could  know  how  the  house 
looked  in  those  days,"  said  the  Colonel  with  a 
sigh  of  regret,  echoed  by  a  much  louder  and 
deeper  sigh  on  the  part  of  Joe.  "  It  was  full 
of  the  most  beautiful  things.  There  was  a 
magnificent  array  of  old  family  portraits ; 
among  them  two  or  three  of  George  and 
Martha  Washington.  Then  there  was  a  mar- 
velous old  sideboard  that  held  many  beauti- 
ful things  that  had  belonged  to  Washington. 
I  remember  in  particular  some  great  silver 
candlesticks  with  snuffers  and  extinguishers, 
and  silver  wine-coolers,  and  some  exquisite 
painted  china,  part  of  a  set  that  had  been 
given  to  Washington  by  the  Society  of  the 
Cincinnati." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  have  told  the  chil- 
dren," interrupted  Grandma  Ellis,  "who  it 
was  that  Miss  Custis  married." 

"  Can  that  be  possible  ?  "  provoked  that  he 
should  have  left  out  anything  so  important. 
"Why,  it  was  General  Robert  E.  Lee!  " 


60  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  don't  know  who  General 
Lee  was,"  said  Mary  Bennett,  blushing  a  little, 
and  then  she  added  quickly,  "  you  see  we  live 
so  far  away  from  where  the  war  was  fought," 
for  Brevet's  undisguised  look  of  astonishment 
was  really  quite  paralysing. 

"  We  only  know  what  we  have  learnt  at 
school,"  Teddy  further  explained,  "and  we 
don't  remember  so  very  much  of  that." 

"  Why,  General  Lee,"  said  Brevet  earnestly, 
feeling  that  he  must  come  personally  to  the 
rescue  of  such  dense  ignorance,  "  was  the 
greatest  general  they  had  down  South.  He 
would  have  whipped  us  Yankees  if  any  one 
could." 

"  He  was  a  fine  man  though,  a  fine  man," 
said  Joe,  solemnly.  "  He  and  Miss  Mary  lived 
right  on  here  at  Arlington  after  dey  was  mar- 
ried and  dere  wasn't  a  slave  of  us  on  de  place 
who  wouldn't  hab  let  Lieutenant  Lee  walk 
right  ober  us  if  he'd  wanted  to.  So  den  when 
Mr.  Custis  died  in  1857,  ar>d  Lieutenant  Lee 
done  come  to  be  de  haid  of  de  house,  it  was 
changin'  one  good  master  for  anoder." 

"Was  Joe  a  slave?"  asked  Allan,  drawing 
himself  up  to  Mammy's  knees,  near  whom  he 
happened  to  be  sitting,  and  speaking  in  an 
awe-struck  whisper. 

"Why,  yes,  Honey,  Joe  was  born  in  a  cabin 


ARLINGTON  BEFORE  THE  WAR.  6 1 

nex'  where  he  lives  to-day,  an'  we  was  all 
slaves  down  here  'fo'  de  wah,  but  de  coloured 
folks  here  at  Arlington  was  always  treated 
ver'  han'some.  I  wasn't  so  fortunate,  Honey 
— I  belonged  down  to  a  plantation  in  Georgia, 
where  de  Missus  was  kind,  but  where  our 
Master  treated  us  des  like  cattle,  an'  I  had 
my  only  chile  sold  away  from  me,  when  she 
wasn't  no  mo'  den  fo'teen  or  fifteen,  an'  I  don' 
know  ter  this  day  whether  she  be  livin'  or  daid." 

"  Oh,  Mammy  !  "  was  all  Allan  could  say  in 
reply,  but  his  little  face  looked  worlds  of 
sympathy. 

Meanwhile  Joe  and  Colonel  Anderson  be- 
tween them  went  on  with  the  story  of  Arling- 
ton, now  one  and  now  the  other  taking  up 
its  thread.  Joe  told  of  the  many  cosy  cabins 
at  that  time  dotted  about  the  place  in  which 
the  slaves  lived,  and  of  their  happy  life  on  a 
plantation  where  they  all  felt  as  though  they 
were  part  of  the  household,  and  took  as  great 
pride  and  pleasure  as  the  Master  himself  in 
everything  belonging  to  it.  He  described,  too, 
to  the  great  delight  of  the  children,  the  wild  ex- 
citement of  the  Autumn  hunting  parties,  when 
Mr.  Custis  and  a  whole  houseful  of  guests  would 
start  off  at  sunrise,  coming  home  at  night  with 
their  game-bags  full  to  a  banquet  in  the  house 
and  an  evening  of  unbounded  fun  and  merri- 


62  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

ment.  The  Colonel  told  about  the  house  itself, 
for  from  the  time  he  became  a  young  man  until 
the  day  when,  about  to  take  command  of  a 
Washington  regiment,  he  came  to  say  good- 
bye to  Lieutenant  Lee,  he  had  been  a  constant 
visitor  there.  He  told  of  the  luxury  and  com- 
fort of  the  delightful  home,  now  so  bare  and 
desolate;  of  the  pretty  sewing-rooms  in  the 
right  wing,  set  apart  for  Mrs.  Custis  and  Miss 
Mary ;  of  the  cosy  library  in  the  left  wing, 
and  then  of  the  pictures  painted  on  the  walls 
by  Mr.  Custis.  The  pictures  represented  five 
of  the  battles  of  the  Revolution,  and  Wash- 
ington was  the  central  figure  in  them  all. 
There  is  just  a  trace  of  some  of  his  work  left 
now  on  the  rear  entrance  of  the  wide  hall,  but 
Colonel  Anderson  admitted  they  could  never 
have  been  considered  very  fine,  rather  detract- 
ing than  adding  to  the  other  beautiful  finish- 
ings of  the  house. 

"  But  what  became  of  all  the  beautiful 
things  and  how  did  the  place  ever  happen  to 
become  a  national  cemetery  ?  "  asked  Courage 
in  one  of  the  pauses,  when  both  Joe  and  the 
Colonel  seemed  to  be  casting  about  in  their 
minds  for  what  would  best  be  told  next.  She 
had  listened  as  intently  as  any  of  the  children 
to  the  whole  narrative,  and  was  every  whit  as 
much  interested. 


ARLINGTON  BEFORE  THE  WAR.  63 

"  Well,  it  seems  to  me  that  is  almost  a  story 
in  itself,"  Colonel  Anderson  answered,  "  and 
that  we  would  better  have  out  the  luncheon 
baskets  and  take  a  bit  of  rest." 

Even  the  children  agreed  but  half-heartedly 
at  first  to  this  interruption,  but  the  avidity 
with  which  they  afterward  settled  down  to 
sandwiches  and  sponge  cake  showed  that  they 
really  had  minds  not  above  the  physical  de- 
mands of  life. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ARLINGTON   AFTERWARD. 

"  MISS  SVLVY,"  asked  Joe,  rather  solemnly, 
"  would  you  be  so  kin'  as  ter  tell  me  whar 
you  hail  from  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  where  I  was  born  ? "  Joe 
nodded.  "  Well,  I'm  very  sorry,  but  I  can't 
tell  you,"  and  the  colour  surged  perceptibly 
under  her  dark  skin. 

"  H'm,"  said  Joe,  pressing  his  lower  lip  over 
the  upper  one,  as  he  had  a  habit  of  doing 
when  he  considered  any  matter  required  care- 
ful thought.  Then  after  a  pause,  "  Well,  your 
las'  name,  Miss  Sylvy,  will  you  tell  me  dat  ?  I 
don'  rightly  remember  eber  to  have  heard 
it." 

"  Sylvester,  Joe,  but  it's  a  name  I  chose  for 
myself.  I  do  not  know  what  name  I  was 
born  to." 

"  Why,  however,  Miss  Sylvy,  did  dat  hap- 
pen?" and  Joe  showed  such  deep  and  tender 
interest  that  Sylvia,  who  cared  to  talk  on  the 
subject  with  very  few,  gladly  entered  into  a 
full  explanation.  She  told  him,  as  she  had 


ARLINGTOAT  AFTERWARD.  65 

told  Courage  that  summer  night  so  many 
years  before  on  Larry's  lighter,  how  she  had 
found  herself  landed  in  the  orphan  asylum, 
with  no  name  as  far  as  any  one  knew,  except- 
ing just  Sylvia,  and  how  she  had  named  her- 
self Sylvester  after  one  of  the  ladies  who 
came  to  the  asylum  to  teach.  And  then  she 
continued,  giving  a  brief  outline  of  her  life 
since  that  time,  all  of  which  proved  most 
absorbing  to  Joe,  because  with  the  telling  of 
Sylvia's  story  he  learnt  so  much  of  interest 
about  Miss  Courage  as  well. 

"  But,  Honey,"  he  asked  at  the  end  of  the 
story,  with  a  sigh  as  of  one  who  has  listened 
with  an  intentness  bordering  upon  fatigue, 
"  who  put  you  in  dat  'sylum  ?  " 

"  Some  one  just  left  me  at  the  asylum  at 
night,  with  a  card  pinned  on  to  my  dress  with 
'  Sylvia'  written  on  it,  and  saying  that  I  had 
neither  father  nor  mother,  and  then  ran  away 
in  the  darkness,  but  I  don't  believe  any  one 
related  to  me  would  have  treated  me  like  that. 
I  would  rather  you  would  not  say  anything 
about  all  this,  Joe.  It  is  only  because  you  are 
one  of  my  own  people  and  seem  so  kind  and 
interested  that  I  have  told  you." 

"  Thank  you  bery  much  for  de  confidence, 
Miss  Sylvy,  for  my  ole  heart  went  right  out  to 
you  from  de  day  you  done  come  walkin'  up  de 


66  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

path  at  Little  Homespun,  but  I'll  keep  it  safe, 
Miss  Sylvy,  never  you  fear." 

Joe  and  Sylvia  had  been  busy  washing  dishes 
and  clearing  up  after  the  luncheon,  and  it  was 
when  their  work  was  finished  and  they  were 
waiting  under  the  chestnut  tree  for  the  others 
to  come  back,  that  they  had  had  their  little 
talk.  It  reached  its  natural  conclusion  just  as 
Colonel  Anderson  came  strolling  up  from  the 
river,  blowing  a  shrill  whistle  between  two 
fingers,  the  signal  previously  agreed  upon  to 
call  the  children  together. 

"  Now,  do  you  know,"  he  said,  when  the 
little  company  had  bestowed  itself  in  much  the 
same  fashion  as  in  the  morning,  "  I  have  an 
idea  that  you  will  have  to  let  Joe  and  me  do 
all  the  talking  now.  We  have  only  a  short 
afternoon  before  us,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  to 
tell." 

No  one  looked  as  though  that  would  be 
the  least  hardship,  and  Joe  explained  that  he 
himself  would  rather  listen  than  talk,  "  less'n 
de  Colonel  disremembered  somethin'  very  im- 
portant." 

"  Likely  as  not  I  shall,  Joe,  but  it  seems  the 
point  at  which  to  commence  this  afternoon  is 
with  General  Lee.  At  the  time  that  he  mar- 
ried Miss  Mollie  Custis  he  was  a  lieutenant  in 
the  United  States  Army,  but  he  had  gradu- 


ARLINGTON  AFTERWARD.  67 

ated  at  the  head  of  his  class  at  West  Point 
only  two  years  before.  After  he  was  married, 
as  you  know,  he  made  his  home  at  Arlington, 
but  he  had  to  be  away  from  it  much  of  the 
time  because  of  his  duties  in  the  army.  He 
was  a  fine  fellow,  I  can  tell  you,  and  held  one 
responsible  position  after  another.  He  was 
right  in  the  thick  of  our  war  with  Mexico,  and 
won  rapid  promotion  for  his  courage  and  dar- 
ing. After  a  brilliant  charge  at  Chapultepec, 
when  he  was  severely  wounded,  he  was  made 
a  brevet-colonel  by  General  Scott.  It  seemed 
after  that  as  though  he  was  everywhere  where 
a  brave,  fearless  man  was  needed.  He  was  in 
command  in  Texas  when  the  Indians  were  at- 
tacking the  settlers  there;  and  was  in  many 
a  bloody  engagement.  Later  on,  he  was  the 
commanding  officer  when  the  house  was 
charged  at  Harper's  Ferry,  where  John  Brown 
had  taken  refuge.  I  wish  there  was  time, 
children,  to  stop  and  tell  you  about  John 
Brown.  You  know  the  old  song  about  '  John 
Brown's  body  lies  a  mouldering  in  the  grave, 
but  his  soul  goes  marching  on.'  Get  Joe  here 
to  sing  it  for  you  some  day,  if  you  don't. 
Well,  you  see  by  all  this  that  General  Lee  had 
done  a  great  deal  for  his  country  ;  but  there 
came  a  day  when  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  turn 
against  it,  that  is,  to  take  up  arms  against  the 


68  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

United  States.  You  all  know  how  the  great 
civil  war  finally  came  about ;  how  the  North- 
ern States  thought  the  Southern  States  should 
not  hold  slaves,  and  how  the  Southern  States 
thought  they  had  the  right  to  decide  whether 
they  should  or  not  without  any  interference 
from  the  North,  and  so  banded  themselves  to- 
gether and  said  they  would  secede  from  the 
United  States  and  form  a  confederacy  of  their 
own.  This  Virginia,  whose  air  we  are  breath- 
ing this  minute,  was  one  of  those  states,  and 
was  General  Lee's  native  state  as  well  ;  and 
when  the  time  came  to  choose  between  his 
state  and  his  country,  he  decided  to  side  with 
the  Confederacy.  Then,  of  course,  there  was 
nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  resign  from  the 
United  States  Army.  He  sent  his  letter  of 
resignation  to  General  Scott  on  the  twenty- 
second  of  April,  1861,  and  then  at  once  left 
Arlington  with  his  wife  and  children,  for  it  was 
quite  too  near  to  Washington  for  him  to  stay 
now  that  he  had  taken  a  stand  against  the  Gov- 
ernment, and  the  very  next  day  he  was  made 
commander-in-chief  of  the  army  in  Virginia.  A 
few  days  before  this,  that  is,  on  the  fifteenth  of 
April,  President  Lincoln  had  called  for  seventy- 
five  thousand  volunteers,  and  three  days  after 
the  Lees  had  left,  the  great  army  of  the  North 
came  pouring  into  Washington  and  all  the 


ARLINGTON  AFTERWARD.  69 

country  round  about.  Camp-fires  crackled 
among  the  oaks  at  Arlington,  and  the  house 
itself  was  taken  possession  of  by  the  officers, 
When  the  troops  first  arrived  at  Arlington 
they  tramped  through  the  deserted  rooms, 
remaining  just  as  the  Lees  had  left  them, 
and  concluding  that  'all's  fair  in  love  and  war,' 
they  simply  helped  themselves  to  the  forsaken 
treasures. 

"  Oh,  but  dose  were  drefful  days  !  "  said  Joe, 
as  though  he  must  give  vent  to  the  thoughts 
Colonel  Anderson's  words  had  stirred :  "  I 
neber  can  forgive  dose  Union  soldiers,  neber. 
Seems  as  dough  dey  might  done  have  respect 
for  a  gentleman's  place,  but  not  a  bit  of  it. 
Seemed  as  dough  dey  could  not  be  spiteful 
'nuff  'gainst  de  General.  Des  fancy  seein' 
things  dat  had  belonged  to  Washington  him- 
self carried  out  of  de  house,  and  sol'  in  de 
streets  up  dere  in  de  city  of  Washington,  and 
some  of  de  negroes — shame  on  'em  ! — ran  away 
with  things  an'  sol'  'em  for  more  money  dan 
dey  themselves  would  have  sol'  for  'fo'  de  wah. 
Oh,  it  was  pitiful  to  see  the  flower  beds  and 
lawns  tramped  over,  as  dough  dey  had  been 
so  much  rubbish,  and  it  wa'n't  long  befo'  de 
smooth  green  terraces  were  just  ragged  mud- 
banks.  You'd  have  thought  I'd  have  gone 
away,  wouldn't  you  ?  But  I  couldn't  bring  my- 


7°  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

self  to  leave  de  ole  place,  until  I  'listed  an' 
went  down  to  Alabama  wid  a  coloured  regiment. 
Dere,  Colonel,  I  done  interrupt  you,  didn't  I  ? 
But  really,  I  was  des  thinkin'  aloud  more  dan 
talkin',  for  I  des  can't  keep  my  thoughts  to 
myself,  when  I  grows  'stracted  over  de  troub- 
lousness  of  dose  times." 

"  I  don't  blame  you,  Joe,  I  don't  blame 
you,"  said  Colonel  Anderson  ;  "  but,  as  for  me, 
I  was  feeling  pretty  hot  against  General  Lee 
those  days.  I  didn't  see  how  he  could  make 
up  his  mind  to  regularly  take  up  arms  against 
his  country,  and  I  have  an  idea  that  I  felt  for 
awhile  that  he  was  treated  no  worse  than  he 
deserved  ;  but  that's  all  bygones  now,  as  well 
as  the  dear  old  Arlington  home,  that  will 
never  be  a  home  again.  You  see,  almost  at 
the  commencement  of  the  war,  children, 
Washington,  with  all  the  country  immediately 
about,  became  the  hospital  centre,  and  soon  a 
surgeon's  staff  was  quartered  in  the  house  yon- 
der, in  addition  to  the  officers  already  there ; 
and  at  the  same  time  long  canvas  shelters 
were  constructed  in  those  woods,  to  which  the 
poor  sick  and  wounded  soldiers  were  brought 
from  camp  and  battlefield — and  sadly  enough 
many  of  them  died  here.  At  first  all  who 
died  were  taken  to  the  Soldiers'  Home  Ceme- 
tery on  the  other  side  of  Washington  to  be 


A  RUNG  TON  AFTER  WARD.  7  I 

buried,  but  the  day  came,  as  you  know,  when 
this  very  place  was  turned  into  a  cemetery, 
and  this  was  how  it  came  about.  One  after- 
noon as  President  Lincoln  was  starting  for  his 
usual  drive,  which  seemed  to  be  the  only  way 
by  which  he  could  gain  any  relief  from  the  bur- 
dens of  that  anxious  time,  he  met  General 
Meigs  (who  was  Quarter-master  General  then 
of  the  United  States  Army)  walking  in  the 
White  House  grounds.  Noticing  how  tired 
and  worn  out  the  General  looked,  the  Presi- 
dent invited  him  to  drive  with  him,  and  Gen- 
eral Meigs  accepted.  It  was  the  President's 
purpose  to  drive  out  to  Arlington,  and  when 
they  reached  there,  the  President  started  off 
for  a  quiet  stroll ;  but  General  Meigs,  whose 
thoughts  were  very  busy  just  then  as  to  what 
should  be  done  with  the  poor  soldiers,  dying 
in  such  numbers  in  and  about  Washington, 
was  soon  deep  in  conference  with  the  surgeons 
in  charge.  You  see  there  would  soon  have 
been  no  more  room  in  other  cemeteries,  and  it 
was  for  the  Quarter-master  General  to  decide 
what  was  to  be  done  in  the  matter.  Now  they 
say  that  General  Meigs  indulged  in  very  bitter 
feelings  toward  his  old  friend  General  Lee, 
and  that  when  he  rejoined  the  President  he 
said,  '  Lee  shall  never  return  to  Arlington,  no 
matter  what  the  issue  of  the  war  may  be,' 


72  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

feeling  evidently  that  he  should  be  fully  pun- 
ished in  any  case  for  the  stand  he  had  taken. 
Just  at  that  moment  a  sad  little  procession 
came  that  way.  The  bodies  of  several  poor 
fellows,  who  had  died  in  the  hospital  tents, 
were  being  carried  on  canvas  stretchers  to  a 
spot  from  whence  they  could  be  taken  to  the 
Soldiers'  Home  Cemetery. 

"  '  How  many  men  are  awaiting  burial  ? ' 
asked  General  Meigs  of  the  Sergeant  in  charge 
of  the  squad. 

" '  Altogether  a  dozen,  sir,'  the  Sergeant 
answered. 

"  '  Bury  them  there,'  ordered  the  General, 
pointing  to  a  low  terrace  bordering  the  gar- 
den." 

"  But  did  General  Meigs  have  any  right  to 
turn  General  Lee's  place  into  a  cemetery?" 
asked  Courage,  a  little  warmly,  feeling  that  an 
interruption  was  excusable  under  the  circum- 
stances. To  be  fair  always,  if  possible,  to 
everybody,  was  a  working  principle  with  Cour- 
age, and  this  proceeding  of  General  Meigs's 
did  not  seem  to  her  quite  fair. 

"  Yes,  I  think  he  had  a  perfect  right,  Miss 
Courage.  In  time  of  war  the  Government 
certainly  has  a  right  to  take  possession,  if 
necessary,  of  property  belonging  to  any  one  in 
open  rebellion  against  it ;  and  besides,  five 


A  RLING  TON  AFTER  WARD.  73 

months  before  Arlington  was  converted  into  a 
cemetery,  the  place  had  been  put  up  at  public 
sale  and  bought  by  the  Government.  It  was 
not,  I  believe,  until  1873,  however,  that  the 
Lees  received  any  money  for  the  estate,  and 
that  I  admit  does  not  seem  fair  at  all.  And 
there  is  another  right  of  which  I  am  certain, 
and  that  is  that  the  brave  fellows  whose 
bodies  rest  in  these  graves  had  a  right  to  the 
most  beautiful  spot  anywhere  in  these  United 
States  of  ours  for  their  last  resting-place.  No, 
I  think  it  was  fitting  that  Arlington  should 
become  one  of  our  national  cemeteries,  and  I 
believe  even  Joe  yonder,  thinks  so  too." 

"  Yes  I  do,  Colonel  Anderson,"  Joe  answered, 
solemnly.  "  Much  as  I  love  General  Lee,  I 
can't  forget  what  de  war  cos'  de  country  in  de 
loss  of  human  life,  and  General  Lee  done  took 
a  great  'sponsibility  'pon  him,  when  he  help 
de  war  on  by  takin'  command  of  de  Southern 
troops.  Yes,  I'm  glad  dat  de  fine  ole  place 
has  been  pressed  into  de  service  of  de  country, 
in  des  de  way  it  has  been." 

Colonel  Anderson's  question  put  to  Joe  and 
Joe's  reply  seemed  to  loosen  the  tongues  of 
the  little  company.  Almost  every  one  from 
Brevet  up  had  some  question  or  other  to  ask 
of  the  Colonel,  and  he  was  quite  willing  that 
they  should,  for  they  had  all  listened  so  atten- 


74  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

tively  that  the  story  had  been  told  more 
quickly  than  either  Joe  or  the  Colonel  had 
thought  possible. 

"And  now,  children,"  said  Brevet,  with  the 
air  of  a  little  grandfather,  "  do  you  wonder 
that  I  love  to  come  and  spend  the  day  with 
Joe?  Why,  there  isn't  a  minute  when  I'm 
here,  that  he  isn't  telling  me  something  'bout 
before  the  war,  or  since  the  war,  and  when  we 
go  back  to  the  cabin  and  Joe  makes  the  hoe- 
cake  and  broils  a  chicken  for  luncheon,  and  I 
get  the  china  down  from  the  cupboard  and  set 
the  table,  with  both  of  us  talking  most  interest- 
ing all  the  time,  and  the  smell  of  the  cooking 
just  filling  all  the  cabin, — well,  there  isn't  ever 
such  a  happy  time,  is  there,  Joe  ?  "  Brevet  had 
made  his  way  to  Joe's  side  as  he  spoke,  and 
reaching  up,  put  one  chubby  little  arm  around 
his  neck. 

"  No,  bless  yo'  little  white  heart,  dere  never 
is  quite  such  a  happy  time  ! ''  and  Joe  drew  the 
little  fellow  into  his  lap  and  held  him  close,  as 
though  he  would  love  to  keep  him  there  for- 
ever. 

"  Is  being  in  the  cabin  and  having  Joe  cook 
the  hoe-cake  and  the  chicken  nicer  than  hav- 
ing luncheon  out  here  in  the  grass  like  this?" 
asked  Allan  Bennett,  a  whole  world  of  envy 
in  his  tone. 


ARLINGTON  AFTERWARD.  75 

"A  heap  nicer,"  was  Brevet's  not  uncertain 
reply. 

"Do  you  really  t'ink  so,  Honey?"  asked 
Joe,  smiling  from  ear  to  ear.  "  Well,  den,  all 
you  little  Bennetts  is  invited  on  de  spot,  to 
take  Fo'th  of  July  dinner  wid  me  in  my  cabin, 
an'  if  Miss  Courage  will  honour  me  wid  her 
presence,  an'  de  Colonel  will  come  out  from 
Washington,  an'  Miss  Sylvy  will  lend  me  a 
hand  wid  de  preparations,  strikes  me  we 
might  hab  a  good  time  sure  nuff." 

Everybody  accepted  Joe's  invitation  with 
alacrity,  and  there  could  not  have  been  a  hap- 
pier ending  to  a  perfect  day  than  to  have  just 
such  another  perfect  day  planned  for  at  its 
close.  It  simply  took  all  the  bitterness  out  of 
the  parting  that  followed  soon  after. 

"  Miss  Lindy,"  whispered  Joe  importantly, 
as  he  helped  Grandma  Ellis  into  the  car- 
riage, "  I  'spects  you  and  Mars  Harry  for  de 
Fo'th  of  July  dinner,  but  as  dere  won't  be  no 
room  for  Mammy  I  didn't  make  no  public 
mention  of  your  two  names.  Seemed  as 
dough  it  might  make  her  feel  a  bit  uncom- 
fortable if  she  was  de  only  one  not  mentioned  ; 
but  you  understan',  Miss  Lindy,  de  cabin  am 
small  an'  Mammy  large,  an' "  (putting  his 
hand  to  his  mouth  and  speaking  in  a  still 
lower  whisper)  "seems  like  Mammy  gettin' 


76  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

too  old  to  be  of  much  use  to  anybody.     You 
un'erstan',  Miss  Lindy  ?  " 

"Oh, yes,  I  understand  perfectly,"  Grandma 
Ellis  answered,  very  much  amused,  "and  I'll 
make  it  all  right  with  Mammy."  But  from 
Grandma  Ellis's  point  of  view  Mammy  did 
not  seem  to  be  growing  old  one  whit  more 
rapidly  than  old  Joe  himself. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

TO  SAVE  BREVET. 

BETWEEN  one  happy  time  and  another  the 
summer  passed  on  at  Little  Homespun.  Not 
that  there  was  not  occasionally  an  unhappy 
time — if  everything  had  moved  perfectly 
smoothly  for  three  whole  months  together,  in 
a  house  where  there  were  four  irrepressible 
children,  with  many  of  the  faults  common  to 
the  average  child  the  world  over,  it  simply 
would  have  been  a  miracle  outright.  No,  in- 
deed ;  there  were  times  now  and  then  when 
Courage  quite  lost  her  patience  and  would 
have  liked  to  box  and  ship  those  four  little 
Bennetts  straight  back  to  their  mother,  and 
there  were  days  when  even  good-natured 
Mary  Duff  lost  her  patience  completely,  and 
declared  she  would  chastise  the  first  one  of 
them  that  dared  to  cross  the  threshold  of  the 
kitchen  ;  but  then,  to  be  quite  fair,  I  have  more 
than  a  glimmering  notion  that  Courage  and 
Mary  Duff  had  their  naughty  moods  too,  as 
well  as  the  children.  You  can't  feel  perfectly 
right,  you  know,  and  always  behave  just  as 


78  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

you  should  every  minute  simply  because  you 
happen  to  be  grown  up.  It  would  be  very 
fine  if  you  could,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that 
with  both  grown-ups  and  children,  trying  hard 
to  get  the  best  of  the  naughty  moods  will  in 
time  accomplish  wonders. 

But  taken  as  a  whole  the  unhappy  times  at 
Homespun  were  nothing  more  than  motes  in 
the  Homespun  sunshine.  Most  of  the  time 
merry,  happy  voices  rang  through  and  about 
the  house  from  dawn  till  sunset.  Peals  of 
happy  laughter,  that  made  any  one  laugh  who 
heard  them,  echoed  everywhere.  Bits  of 
childish  song  floated  down  stairs  and  up  stairs 
or  came  in  at  the  open  windows — "  I'se  a  lit- 
tle Alabama  Coon  "  always  the  burden  of  the 
refrain  when  Brevet  was  down  for  the  day. 
Then,  toward  twilight,  or  more  often  a  little 
later,  when  it  had  really  grown  quite  dark, 
the  same  dear  childish  voices  blended  in  a 
sweet  evening  hymn  would  float  out  at  the 
open  windows,  and  the  little  people  whose 
whole  minds  had  been  given  to  play  the  long 
summer  day  through,  would  quiet  down  and 
then  go  contentedly  off  to  bed,  their  childish 
hearts  full  of  a  sweet  peace  that  they  hardly 
understood,  and  which  was  not  strange  at  all, 
for  it  was  simply  the  peace  that  "  passeth  all 
understanding." 


TO  SAVE  BREVET.  79 

But  not  all  the  days  by  any  manner  of 
means  were  spent  in  or  about  Little  Home- 
spun. Joe's  Fourth  of  July  dinner  had  been 
a  great  success,  and  there  had  followed  several 
all-day  excursions  carefully  planned  in  all 
their  details  by  Uncle  Harry,  and  every  one 
of  them  voted  a  great  success.  The  fall  that 
had  broken  Uncle  Harry's  arm  had  proved  a 
veritable  "  windfall "  for  the  children,  if  a 
windfall  means  something  very  pleasant  that 
comes  in  your  way  quite  by  accident,  like 
apples  strewn  by  the  wind  unexpectedly  at 
your  feet.  It  had  not  been  altogether  an  un- 
pleasant experience  for  Uncle  Harry  either, 
notwithstanding,  though  it  was  now  late  in 
August,  the  arm  was  still  in  a  sling.  Twice  it 
had  had  to  be  reset,  and  that  had  of  course 
been  very  trying;  and  yet  but  for  that  arm  he 
would  have  been  delving  away  the  whole  sum- 
mer through  in  a  hot  office  up  at  Washington, 
and  the  children,  without  knowing  of  course 
what  they  were  missing,  would  in  fact  have 
foregone  half  the  delight  of  the  summer.  In 
Uncle  Harry's  profession,  no  right  arm  to  use 
meant  nothing  to  do  whatever,  and  so  he 
was  thankful  enough  that  Courage  and  the 
Bennetts  had  found  their  way  down  to  old 
Virginia,  and  that  he  had  been  able  to  plan 
and  carry  out  so  many  delightful  excursions 


8o  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

for  their  enjoyment.  But  the  summer's  crown 
of  pleasure,  as  far  as  the  Bennetts  were  con- 
cerned, had  been  the  days  spent  at  Ellismere 
with  Brevet  on  his  island. 

I  half  believe  I  have  not  mentioned  this 
island  before,  for  which  omission  I  am  per- 
fectly confident  Brevet  would  never  forgive 
me.  The  idea  of  trying  to  write  anything 
whatever  about  him  and  not  tell  about  that 
island  the  very  first  thing!  It  was  altogether 
a  wonderful  place,  I  assure  you.  It  lay  about 
a  hundred  feet  out  from  the  shore,  just  in 
front  of  the  Ellismere  homestead  ;  and  as  there 
was  not  another  island  within  sight  of  it, 
Brevet  always  gratefully  cherished  the  belief 
that  it  had  been  placed  there  just  for  him.  It 
was  about  seventy  feet  long,  and  almost  as 
wide,  and  it  boasted  a  steep  little  ledge  of 
rock  on  the  side  near  the  shore  and  two  very 
respectable  little  pine  trees.  But  it  was  what 
the  hand  of  man  had  achieved  upon  this  little 
island  that  made  it  the  wonderful  place  it 
was,  and  that  hand  none  other  than  old  black 
Joe's.  It  was  he  who  had  said  one  sunshiny 
May  morning:  "Brevet,  I'll  build  a  camp  for 
you  over  on  that  island,"  and  true  to  his  word 
Joe  had  driven  up  to  Ellismere  every  day  that 
summer  that  he  could  spare  from  his  not  very 
arduous  duties  at  Arlington,  and  he  had  worked 


TO  SA  VE  BRE  VET.  8 1 

away  as  zealously  as  though  he  had  assumed 
the  work  under  contract. 

As  a  result  it  had  been  finished  the  October 
previous,  and  Brevet  had  had  several  weeks  to 
enjoy  it  before  the  cold  weather  obliged  him 
to  break  camp  for  the  winter.  Grandma 
Ellis's  contribution  to  the  scheme  had  been  a 
cedar  row-boat  and  a  pair  of  spoon  oars,  by 
which  to  have  communication  with  the  island, 
but  for  everything  else  Joe  was  to  be  thanked. 
He  had  cut  and  sewed  the  tent,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  a  canvas  cot.  He  had  manufactured 
tables  and  chairs,  and  best  of  all  a  soldier's 
chest,  with 

HOWARD   STANHOPE   ELLIS 
BRE  VE  T-CAPTAIN 

burned  in  clear-cut  letters  upon  the  lid.  There 
was  even  a  little  desk  of  rude  contrivance 
upon  which  Brevet,  after  the  successful  con- 
clusion of  most  exciting  battles,  would  write 
cheering  letters  home  to  his  grandmother. 
Outside  of  the  tent  hung  a  good-sized  kettle 
over  abed  of  ashes,  that  bore  witness  to  many 
a  good  meal  cooked  within  it,  while  on  the 
rocky  ledge  above,  a  toy  brass  cannon  com- 
manded the  harbour,  making  the  island  quite 
invulnerable  from  any  assault  that  might  be 
attempted  from  the  side  near  the  shore. 


82  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

Was  it  strange  then  that  to  the  Bennetts,  and 
especially  to  the  boys  Teddy  and  Allan,  this 
unique  little  spot,  with  its  perfect  equipment, 
offered  more  possibilities  of  good  times  than 
anything  they  themselves  could  in  any  way 
concoct  or  invent  ? — and  they  had  lived  up  to 
their  possibilities,  though  that  had  involved 
living  at  Ellismere  most  of  the  time.  How- 
ever, Grandma  Ellis  assured  Courage  they 
were  not  a  bit  of  trouble,  and  Courage  took 
her  at  her  word,  for  the  sake  of  what  it  meant 
to  the  children. 

But,  of  all  the  wildly-exciting  and  happy 
days,  none  had  seemed  quite  so  exciting  and 
happy  as  the  day  to  which  we  have  now  come 
in  this  story.  Perhaps  the  fact  that  there 
could  not  by  any  chance  be  many  more  of  these 
times,  lent  its  own  specially  brightening  charm 
to  the  blessings  that  must  soon  take  their 
flight ;  for  it  was  the  2/th  of  August  by  the  cal- 
endar, and  by  the  middle  of  September  Little 
Homespun  would  be  closed,  and  Courage  and 
the  Bennetts  have  taken  their  departure.  Joe 
had  been  with  the  children  all  day,  and  he 
was  the  one  to  be  thanked  for  most  of  its 
wildly  exciting  features.  Single-handed,  but 
supposed  to  represent  a  whole  regiment,  he 
had  tried  in  a  score  of  ways  to  effect  a  landing 
on  the  island ;  but  by  dint  of  unceasing  vigi- 


TO  SAVE  BREVET.  83 

lance  the  children  had  succeeded  in  keeping 
him  at  bay,  until  at  last,  despairing  and  ex- 
hausted, he  had  beaten  a  retreat  to  the  main 
land.  Indeed,  so  hard  and  unremitting  had 
been  the  labours  of  the  children,  that  about 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Courage,  who 
had  been  having  an  all-day  chat  with  Grandma 
Ellis  and  was  afraid  the  children  would  quite 
wear  themselves  out,  succeeded  in  coaxing 
them  to  the  shore,  under  promise  of  a  story, 
and  it  was  not  to  be  any  ordinary,  made-up 
story  either.  Naturally  in  her  daily  contact 
with  the  children,  Courage  had  alluded  now 
and  then  to  her  own  childhood,  and  with  the 
result  that  they  had  extracted  from  her  the 
pledge  that  she  would  tell  them  all  about  it 
some  day.  But  as  yet  Courage's  "  some  day  " 
never  had  dawned,  although  they  had  repeat- 
edly begged  for  the  story — now  they  con- 
cluded the  time  had  come  to  take  a  stand. 

"  Will  you  tell  us  the  story  about  yourself  if 
we  come  over?"  Teddy  called  from  the  island. 
"  We  are  all  agreed  we  cannot  think  of  laying 
down  our  arms  unless  you  will." 

"Agreed,"  Courage  called  back,  glad  to 
commit  them  to  an  hour  of  quiet  at  any  cost; 
and  so  the  children  embarked  and  rowed  over, 
and  Grandma  entreated  so  hard  that  she 
might  be  allowed  to  listen  too,  that  Courage 


84  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

yielded,  and  the  little  group  gathered  itself 
about  her  big  rocking-chair  on  the  gallery. 
Joe  was  also  permitted  to  form  one  of  the 
party ;  but  there  was  another  listener,  who 
would  not  have  been  tolerated  for  a  moment  if 
his  whereabouts  had  been  known.  He  was 
stretched  full  length  on  the  hair-cloth  sofa  just 
between  the  windows  in  the  living-room,  and, 
knowing  it  would  be  quite  impossible  for  him 
to  gain  permission  to  be  a  hearer,  he  was  just 
sufficiently  unprincipled  to  listen  without  so 
much  as  saying  "  by  your  leave." 

You  know  the  story  that  Courage  told — if 
not  you  may  read  it  if  you  have  a  mind,  in  the 
little  book  to  which  this  is  a  sequel.  At  the 
outset,  of  course,  she  told  how  she  had  come 
by  her  unusual  name,  which  was  the  greatest 
relief  to  Joe  and  Brevet.  They  had  wanted  so 
much  to  have  that  explained  the  whole  summer 
through  and  yet  had  not  quite  liked  to  ask. 
The  remainder  of  the  story  was  new  to  all 
save  Grandma  Ellis,  and  Courage,  now  that 
she  had  really  started,  tried  to  be  faithful  to 
every  detail  that  could  possibly  have  any  in- 
terest, from  the  day  of  her  christening  to  the 
night  when  the  draw  was  open  and  she  took 
her  wild  leap  in  the  darkness.  \Yhen  she  had 
finished  every  one  sat  perfectly  still  for  a  min- 
ute. Courage  told  her  own  story  much  better 


TO  SAVE  BREVET.  85 

than  any  one  else  has  told  or  could  tell  it,  and 
her  great  absorbing  love  for  Miss  Julia  shone 
out  like  a  golden  thread  all  through  the  telling. 
Grandma  Ellis  was  the  first  to  draw  a  long 
breath  and  break  the  silence. 

"  Oh,  but  I  wish  I  might  have  known  your 
Miss  Julia,"  she  said. 

"  You  know  somebody  who  is  just  exactly 
like  her,"  said  Mary  Bennett,  putting  her  arm 
about  Courage  ;  "•just  exactly  !  "  and  this  she 
said  very  slowly  and  firmly,  as  though  she 
thought  Courage  might  be  inclined  to  differ 
with  her,  but  Courage  only  said,  "  Dear  child," 
in  a  low  whisper,  so  grateful  was  she  for  the 
most  blessed  praise  that  could  possibly  come 
to  her. 

"  Let  us  see  Miss  Julia's  picture  now, 
please,"  urged  the  children,  and  Courage  drew 
from  her  dress  an  exquisite  miniature,  set  in 
pearls,  and  attached  to  a  violet  ribbon  worn 
about  her  neck.  They  had  all  seen  it  many  a 
time  before,  but  it  seemed  to  take  on  a  new 
beauty  in  the  light  of  all  they  had  been  hear- 
ing. It  wras  when  the  picture  had  been  passed 
slowly  from  hand  to  hand,  and  the  natural 
thing  seemed  to  be  for  the  little  party  to  break 
up,  that  Allan  was  the  first  to  discover  that 
one  of  the  party  had  disappeared. 

"  Why,  where  is  Brevet  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  as 


86  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

though  part  of  his  personal  belongings  had 
given  him  the  slip. 

"Why,  sure  'nuff,  where  is  dat  chile?" 
queried  Joe,  getting  up  from  his  chair  a  little 
stiffly  and  peering  up  to  the  gallery  roof  and 
to  the  branches  of  the  trees,  as  though  the 
most  unlikely  spot  imaginable  was  precisely 
the  spot  in  which  to  expect  to  find  his  little 
Captain.  "Seems  to  me  it  looks  a  little  ugly 
over  there  toward  Fort  Meyer,"  he  added, 
stepping  to  the  end  of  the  porch  and  shading 
his  eyes  with  his  hand. 

At  these  words  Harry,  who  had  been  think- 
ing over  all  he  had  heard,  rose  noiselessly 
from  the  lounge  and  slipped  away  to  the  rear 
of  the  house.  There  he  saw  at  a  glance  that  it 
did  indeed  look  more  than  "  a  little  ugly  "  over 
toward  Fort  Meyer.  A  large,  funnel-shaped 
cloud  of  a  dark  brown  color  loomed  high  on 
the  horizon  and  Harry's  heart  sank  within  him. 
He  had  seen  and  known  during  a  summer's  sur- 
veying in  the  West,  the  wreck  and  ruin  that 
may  follow  in  the  train  of  such  a  cloud,  and 
he  knew  that  everything  should  be  gotten  into 
shape  as  quickly  as  possible.  Hurrying 
quickly  to  the  front  porch  he  said,  with  as 
much  composure  as  he  could  muster: 

"You  would  better  go  directly  into  the 
house,  Grandma,  we  may  be  going  to  have 


TO  SA  VE  BRE  VET.  87 

quite  a  storm.  Send  the  children  through  all 
the  rooms  and  have  every  shutter  drawn  to, 
and  every  window  closed  and  fastened." 

"  But  Brevet,"  said  Grandma,  trying  her  best 
to  keep  her  voice  steady,  "  no  one  knows  where 
Brevet  is.  No  one  saw  him  go,  or  has  any 
idea  where  he  went." 

"  Oh,  he  can't  be  far  away,"  Harry  answered, 
cheerily.  "  Joe  and  I  will  find  him  in  a  jiffy. 
Now  you  do  as  I  say,  Grandma,"  gently  push- 
ing her  toward  the  door,  "  and,  children,  whisk 
these  chairs  into  the  house,  and  then  make 
for  the  doors  and  windows  and  close  them 
tightly.  Don't  stop  to  look,  or  lose  a  single 
minute." 

Harry  succeeded  in  speaking  calmly,  but  his 
manner  showed  how  urgent  he  deemed  the 
need  of  haste,  and  try  as  she  would  Grandma 
found  herself  unequal  to  the  occasion.  Her 
limbs  refused  to  support  her,  and  once  inside 
the  house  she  sank  into  the  nearest  chair,  and, 
burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  broke  into  an 
agony  of  sobs  and  tears.  To  have  little  Brevet 
missing  at  such  an  anxious  moment  was  more 
than  her  over-strained  nerves  could  bear. 
Courage  saw  instantly  it  was  for  her  to  take 
command  of  the  situation,  and  sending  the 
children  hither  and  thither  through  the  house 
as  Harry  had  directed,  she  herself  hurried 


88  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

away  for  the  stimulant  of  which  Grandma 
Ellis  so  sorely  stood  in  need. 

Meanwhile  poor  old  Joe,  who  in  his  alarm 
for  Brevet's  safety  had  lost  his  head  com- 
pletely, had  been  wasting  precious  moments 
in  looking  in  the  most  impossible  places. 

"  Oh,  Mars  Harry,  whar  can  dat  blessed 
child  be?"  he  said,  coming  up  to  Harry  with 
the  tears  streaming  down  his  face. 

"  Have  you  looked  over  on  the  island,  Joe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  never  thought  of  dat,  Mars  Harry," 
but  the  misery  that  was  in  Joe's  voice  showed 
that  he  took  in  instantly  all  the  dreadful 
possibilities,  if  the  storm  should  break  with 
Brevet  alone  on  the  island.  They  hurried  as 
fast  as  they  could  to  the  shore,  and  there, 
sure  enough  !  was  Brevet,  hard  at  work,  get- 
ting his  little  camp  into  shape  for  the  com- 
ing storm  he  had  evidently  been  the  first  to 
discover.  At  that  precise  moment  he  was  busy 
hauling  down  the  little  camp  flag,  but  that  he 
was  not  in  the  least  disconcerted  was  perfectly 
evident.  In  the  awful  ominous  hush  preced- 
ing the  storm,  they  could  even  catch  the 
familiar  strain  of  "  I'se  a  little  Alabama 
Coon." 

"We  must  not  frighten  him,  Joe,"  Harry 
said,  his  breath  coming  short  and  fast,  "we 
must  just  call  to  him  to  come  right  back. 


TO  SAVE  BREVET.  89 

But  where  is  the  boat,  Joe  ?  Where  is  the 
boat?  " 

"  Oh,  Mars  Harry  !  Mars  Harry  !  look  dere," 
and  now  the  fear  in  Joe's  voice  had  turned  to 
veriest  anguish  ;  and  Harry  looking,  saw  the 
precious  boat  in  mid-river,  the  oars  still  rest- 
ing in  the  oar-locks,  but  as  hopelessly  beyond 
reach  as  though  in  mid-ocean. 

"Oh,  Joe!"  cried  Harry,  looking  down  at 
the  helpless  arm  bound  firmly  in  the  splints. 
Then,  crying,  "  I  will  get  a  man  from  the 
stables  ;  stay  right  where  you  are,  Joe,"  he  was 
gone  in  a  flash.  A  man  from  the  stables!  Joe 
knew  how  long  that  must  take.  No,  there  was 
just  one  thing  to  be  done,  and  stripping  off 
boots  and  jacket,  in  the  next  second  he  was 
breast  deep  in  the  water,  and  in  the  next 
striking  out  bravely  for  the  island.  It  was  a 
hard  tug  for  the  old  man,  for  the  current  \vas 
strong  ;  but  Brevet,  still  unmindful  of  his  dan- 
ger, sang  away  with  a  will,  and  the  words  came 
distinctly  over  the  water, — 

"  I'se  a  little  Alabama  Coon, 
I  hasn't  been  born  very  long." 

"  Bless  your  heart,  no  you  hasn't,"  muttered 
Joe,  keeping  his  head  well  above  water.  "  You 
hasn't  been  born  long  'nuff  ter  go  out  dis 
woiT  yet  awhile,  I'm  thinkin',"  and  nerved  by 


go  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

the  little  fellow's  unconscious  calmness,  Joe 
put  all  his  strength  in  four  or  five  more  good 
strokes,  and  reached  the  camp,  but  he  had  no 
breath  left  with  which  to  speak  when  he 
reached  it.  It  was  dreadful  to  waste  the  pre- 
cious moments,  but  his  breath  was  still  too 
laboured  from  the  strenuous" effort  he  had  been 
making  for  him  to  voice  a  single  Word.  Just 
at  that  moment  Brevet  turned  to  hurry  down 
from  the  camp,  and  then  stood  riveted  to  the 
spot,  his  face  white  with  terror.  He  did  not 
see  Joe  in  the  dismay  of  his  discovery. 

"  Oh,  my  boat  is  gone !  "  he  cried,  lifting  his 
two  little  clenched  hands  in  helpless  consterna- 
tion. 

"  But  here's  your  Cap'n,"  rang  out  a  dear 
familiar  voice,  and  Joe  thanked  God  that  he 
was  able  to  instantly  dispel  the  little  fellow's 
fears.  One  bound,  and  Brevet  was  at  Joe's 
side. 

"  Did  you  swim  over  for  me,  Captain?  "  his 
two  arms  locked  about  Joe's  neck  in  his  joy. 

"Yes,  I  done  swim  ober  for  you  Honey,  an' 
now  we  done  goin'  ter  swim  back  again.  Des 
get  on  my  ole  back,  dis  a-way,  Honey,  only 
have  a  care  not  ter  choke  me  an'  don'  be 
a-feared  for  a  moment." 

It  was  hardly  necessary  for  Joe  to  have 
added  that,  for  on  Joe's  back  Brevet  felt  as 


'OH,  MY  BOAT  is  GONE!"— Page  90. 


TO  SA  VE  BRE  VET.  91 

safe  as  any  of  the  rest  of  us  on  the  deck  of  an 
ocean  steamer.  Besides,  it  was  such  fun  to  be 
carried  ashore  in  that  fashion.  Only  once  it 
seemed  to  cross  his  little  mind  that  it  might 
perhaps  be  rather  hard  work  for  Joe. 

"  If  I'm  too  heavy,  I  think  I  could  swim  all 
right.  Shall  I  leave  go?" 

"  No,"  gasped  Joe,  fearing  the  dauntless  little 
fellow  might  put  his  suggestion  immediately 
into  practice,  "  for  Heben's  sake,  no,  Brevet !  " 
and  then  Brevet  tightened  his  hold  as  though 
realising  there  might  be  some  danger.  How 
great  the  danger  only  Joe  himself  knew,  and 
he  feared  more  than  once  that  he  would  have 
to  give  up — that  he  could  not  save  Brevet 
after  all. 

Harry's  search  for  help  had  been  futile,  and, 
rushing  back  to  the  shore,  what  was  his  joy  to 
discover  that  Joe  had  dared  to  disobey  orders 
and  had  safely  crossed  to  the  island !  But 
what  a  terrible  risk  the  old  man  was  running, 
and,  oh,  the  chagrin,  young  man  that  he  was, 
of  not  being  able  himself  to  attempt  the  rescue ! 
With  bated  breath  he  watched  Joe's  start  for 
the  mainland,  and  then  saw  instantly  how  even 
the  first  return  strokes  taxed  his  strength  to 
the  full.  At  the  point  for  which  he  was  mak- 
ing the  far-spreading  limbs  of  two  old  live-oaks 
extended  out  over  the  river,  and  Harry,  plung- 


92  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

ing  into  the  water  and  clinging  by  his  good 
arm  to  the  heavier  of  two  parallel  branches, 
was  able  to  make  his  way  to  its  extreme  end, 
quite  a  distance  from  the  shore. 

"  Steer  right  for  me,  Joe,"  he  called,  in  a 
voice  of  earnest  entreaty.  "  See  where  I  am, 
Joe,  I  can  help  you  from  here."  But  a  sudden 
blackness  had  come  before  Joe's  eyes,  and  he 
could  see  nothing. 

Meantime  Courage  had  hurried  from  the 
house  the  first  moment  she  could  be  spared  ; 
had  reached  the  river's  edge  and  instantly  took 
in  the  situation.  It  would  be  little  enough 
Harry  could  do  even  if  poor  Joe  succeeded  in 
reaching  him — it  was  for  her  to  gain  some 
point  as  near  him  as  possible,  and  be  ready  to 
lend  a  hand  as  well.  Throwing  aside  a  cloak 
she  had  caught  up  for  protection,  she  strode 
into  the  water,  and  by  aid  of  the  same  strong 
limb  to  which  Harry  was  clinging,  was  able  to 
take  her  place  close  behind  him.  Meantime 
not  for  one  instant  did  Harry  intermit  his  calls 
of  encouragement,  until  at  last  the  overhang- 
ing branch  was  almost  reached. 

"  Joe,"  he  then  called,  in  a  voice  of  com- 
manding entreaty,  "  one  stroke  more!  Now 
lay  hold  of  me  and  you're  safe."  Joe  had 
hardly  consciousness  enough  left  to  obey,  but 
he  made  one  stroke  more,  and  then  his  arms 


TO  SAVE  BREVET.  93 

grasped  something,  he  hardly  knew  what, 
with  an  iron  grip,  and  barely  keeping  his  head 
above  water,  his  body  dragged  helplessly 
down  the  river  with  the  current. 

"  And  what  shall  I  do  ? "  gasped  Brevet 
quickly,  for  he  had  at  last  fully  realised  the 
struggle  of  the  crossing  and  knew  that  Joe's 
strength  was  all  but  gone. 

"  You  lay  hold  of  my  arm,  Brevet,"  cried 
Courage  ;  "  now  let  go  of  Joe  ;  now  cling  to  me 
and  pull  yourself  up  here  on  this  limb.  Quick, 
quick,  Brevet,  don't  lose  a  moment — there — 
now  lie  flat  down  and  keep  perfectly  still  with 
your  arms  firm  around  the  branch  under  you. 
Now  what  ?  "  in  a  voice  of  bewildered  appeal 
to  Harry. 

"Can  you  shift  yourself  to  that  other  limb 
and  bend  it  within  Joe's  reach  ?  I  am  helpless." 
Harry  spoke  through  teeth  clenched  with  the 
effort  of  supporting  Joe  and  his  own  dead 
weight  by  that  one  arm's  hold  on  the  branch 
beside  him. 

It  was  not  an  easy  thing  that  Harry  asked, 
but  retreating  toward  the  shore  a  little  way,  to 
a  point  where  the  branches  came  more  closely 
together,  she  safely  swung  to  the  other  limb, 
but  in  making  her  way  out  into  the  water 
again,  she  felt  the  ground  fall  gradually  away 
beneath  her  feet, 


94  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

"  Careful,  careful,"  called  Harry  ;  "  don't  get 
beyond  your  depth." 

"  I  am  all  right,"  Courage  answered  calmly, 
though  she  knew  for  a  certainty  that  she  was 
already  beyond  her  depth — but  what  did  that 
matter  in  the  imperative  need  of  the  moment? 
All  this  while  Joe,  with  closed  eyes,  still  realised 
that  the  one  thing  for  him  to  do  was  to  hold 
on.  Notwithstanding  the  deeper  water  Cour- 
age succeeded  in  working  out  along  the  branch 
until  near  enough  to  Joe  to  bend  it  by  her 
weight  within  his  reach.  Then  she  cried  per- 
emptorily, with  what  little  breath  was  left 
her: 

"  Joe,  open  your  eyes."  Joe  mechanically 
obeyed.  "Now  see  this  branch,  Joe;  reach 
for  it  and  get  upon  your  feet.  The  water  is 
not  deep." 

Harry  felt  Joe's  grasp  relaxing  from  his 
body,  but  at  the  same  time  it  was  apparent 
that  he  was  too  weak  and  dazed  to  fully  take 
in  the  situation,  and  was  not  about  to  make 
the  effort  necessary  to  seize  the  overhanging 
limb. 

"  Brevet,"  cried  Harry,  under  his  breath, 
"  speak  to  Joe.  He  is  not  going  to  try  to 
save  himself " 

"Joe!  Joe!"  called  Brevet,  an  agony  of 
appeal  in  his  voice.  Joe's  eyes  opened  again. 


TO  SAVE  BREVET.  •    95 

"Reach  for  that  branch,  Joe,  and  try  to  get 
ashore.  I  want  you,  Joe,  I  want  you 

Brevet's  dearly  loved  voice,  with  its  deep 
sob  of  entreaty,  seemed  to  reach  some  inner 
consciousness  of  Joe's.  If  Brevet  needed  him, 
he  must  make  one  last  effort ;  and,  letting  go 
his  relaxed  hold  of  Harry,  he  reached  for 
the  branch  ;  struggled  to  his  feet,  stumbling 
heavily  against  Courage ;  took  the  necessary 
steps  to  reach  the  shore,  and  then  fell  utterly 
unconscious. 

Meantime  the  storm  had  broken  in  all  its 
fury.  A  great  yellow  whirl  of  dust  and  sand 
came  sweeping  down  upon  them,  carrying 
broken  twigs  and  larger  branches,  in  a  twink- 
ling, past  them  ;  then  came  the  rain  in  tor- 
rents, and  vivid  flashes  of  lightning.  Brevet 
clung  terrified  to  the  limb,  but,  manly  little 
fellow  that  he  was,  made  no  outcry.  Harry, 
with  but  one  arm  at  his  service,  hung  where  he 
was;  the  water  serving  to  buoy  his  body  up, 
and  to  sustain  his  weight,  but  he  was  power- 
less to  alter  his  position.  Courage,  by  the  aid 
of  the  limb,  made  her  way  to  the  shore.  Then 
calling  back  to  Harry,  "  I  will  bring  help  at 
once,"  she  dropped  on  to  her  hands  and  knees, 
for  it  was  impossible  to  stand  against  the  wind 
and  rain,  and  began  creeping  up  the  embank- 
ment. But  fortunately  for  them  all,  help  was 


g6  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

at  hand.  Teddy  Bennett,  fairly  blown  along 
by  the  wind,  appeared  on  the  ledge  above 
her.  Courage,  leaning  heavily  upon  one  hand, 
pointed  down  the  river,  and  Teddy  in  another 
minute  was  in  the  water  and  close  at  Harry's 
side.  It  was  the  work  of  but  a  moment,  strong 
young  swimmer  that  he  proved  himself,  to  help 
Harry  ashore,  and  then  throwing  themselves 
flat  upon  the  ground  and  calling  out  every 
minute  to  Brevet  to  "  Hold  on  and  keep  a 
brave  heart!"  they  waited  for  the  terrible 
storm  to  pass  over. 


IEANTIME  <  OURACE  HAD  HURRIED  FROM  T:IE  HOUSI 

-Pag*  V. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

JOE   HAS   AN   IDEA. 

IT  was  two  weeks  now  since  that  dreadful 
afternoon  up  at  Ellismere,  and  it  has  been  a 
quiet  two  weeks  for  all  of  our  little  party. 
No  one  has  had  the  heart  for  very  much  fun, 
for  Grandma  Ellis  has  been  very  ill  up  at 
Ellismere,  and  dear  old  Joe  is  lying  helpless 
in  bed  in  his  own  little  cabin.  After  the  storm 
had  spent  its  force  they  had  carried  Joe  up  to 
the  house,  and  there  he  had  lain  unmindful  of 
everything  about  him  for  three  whole  days 
together.  Then,  when  at  last  consciousness 
came  back,  power  to  move  either  right  arm  or 
leg  did  not  come  with  it,  and  then  they  learned 
that  poor  old  Joe  was  paralysed.  As  soon  as 
possible  after  that  they  moved  Joe  up  to  Ar- 
lington, for  he  longed  for  his  own  bed  and  his 
own  familiar  cabin.  And  who  do  you  sup- 
pose went  up  to  care  for  Joe,  but  Mammy ! 

"  If  you  can  spare  me,  Miss  Lindy,"  Mammy 
had  said  to  Grandma  Ellis,  "  I  would  like  to 
look  out  for  Joe  de  res'  of  his  days.  I  ain't 
alters  been  ober  kin*  to  dat  ole  gem'an,  an'  I 
ain't  had  no  idea  what  splendid  stuff  he  had  in 


98  LITTLE  HOMESPUN: 

him,"  and  it  seemed  a  very  little  thing  to 
Grandma  Ellis  to  spare  Mammy  for  the  sake 
of  the  one  who  had  saved  Brevet's  life.  That 
Joe  had  saved  it  there  was  but  little  question, 
for  the  storm  had  seemed  to  be  at  its  very 
height  when  it"  reached  the  island,  levelling 
and  demolishing  everything  upon  it.  The 
tent  had  been  carried  off  bodily,  no  one  knew 
where,  and  the  little  pine  trees  uprooted  lay 
wedged  in  the  rocks  as  though  pounded  in 
with  an  anvil,  so  that  it  seemed  impossible 
that  Brevet  could  have  escaped  being  hurled 
into  the  river,  or  dashed  against  the  rocks 
with  the  same  terrible  force  as  the  pine  trees. 

Harry  had  been  unable  to  bring  any  one 
from  the  stables,  for  both  the  men,  as  it  hap- 
pened, were  three  miles  away  at  the  black- 
smith's, and  but  for  Joe's  instant  action,  any 
help  would  have  come  too  late. 

I  doubt  if  Teddy  will  ever  quite  forgive 
Grandma  Ellis,  or  his  sister  Mary,  for  forbid- 
ding him  to  join  the  party  in  search  of  Brevet, 
or  ever  cease  to  be  thankful  that  at  last,  rush- 
ing out  of  the  house  in  spite  of  all  their  pro- 
tests, he  was  able  to  render  such  timely  aid. 

As  for  Joe,  he  accepted  his  utter  helpless- 
ness with  a  beautiful  resignation,  but  there 
was  something  on  Joe's  mind,  and  one  day  he 
said  to  Mammy : 


JOE  HAS  AN  IDEA.  -        99 

"Would  you  min',  Mammy,  just  sendin'  fo' 
Miss  Courage  to  come  heah  for  awhile  dis 
ebenin'.  I'se  somethin'  important  ter  say  ter 
her.  'Tain't  dat  I  couldn't  trus'  you  wid  it, 
Mammy,  only  you  knows  dey  am  times  when 
a  'spectable  cullud  pusson  seem  ter  need  der 
advice  of  a  pusson  what  is  born  ter  a  different 
colour  and  station." 

"  Miss  Courage  shall  be  sent  for  dis  bery 
ebenin',  Joe,"  for  Mammy  had  made  up  her 
mind  that  Joe  was  to  be  humoured  in  every 
particular.  And  so  Courage  came,  and  with 
Brevet,  who  had  happened  to  be  spending  the 
day  at'  Homespun,  for  her  companion.  They 
stopped  to  leave  the  buckboard  at  the  stable, 
where  a  young  mulatto  boy  was  now  doing 
Joe's  work,  and  then  Brevet  asked  permission 
to  run  on  ahead.  He  had  something  on  his 
mind,  as  well  as  Joe,  and  he  was  longing  to 
ask  him  a  question  that  had  just  occurred  to 
him  the  day  before,  and  which  had  made  his 
little  heart  very  heavy. 

"  Joe,"  he  said  in  an  awed  whisper,  stepping 
into  the  cabin  and  looking  quickly  about  to 
see  if  Mammy  happened  to  be  out  of  hearing, 
"  are  you  asleep,  Joe  ?  " 

'  "  No,  bless  your  little  heart,"  and  Joe's  old 
face  lighted  up  with  the  joy  of  Brevet's  com- 
ing, "  I  was  des  habin  a  bit  o'  a  day-dream." 


100  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

"  Joe,"  whispered  Brevet,  tip-toeing  close 
to  his  side,  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me  something. 
You're  paralysed,  you  know,  Joe." 

"  Yes,  Honey,  I  knows." 

"  Well,  it  wasn't  because  you  went  in  the 
river  for  me,  was  it,  Joe?  It  just  happened 
to  come  then,  didn't  it,  Joe?"  in  anxious  in- 
quiry, and  as  though  to  find  out  that  he  was 
responsible  for  Joe's  illness  would  be  more 
than  he  could  bear. 

"  Des  happen  ?  o'  course,  chile,  des  happen. 
Why,  des  look  at  me,  Honey  !  I's.e  pow'ful 
ole ;  reckon  nobody  knows  how  ole  I  be," 
(which  was  the  truth,  for  Joe,  if  he  knew  him- 
self, had  never  told  any  one),  "  whereas  mos' 
white-haired  cullud  pussons  is  par'lysed  long 
afore  my  time  o'  life,  par'lyscd  all  over  too, 
not  des  a  sort  o'  half  par'lysed  like  me.  No, 
neber  you  b'lieve  it  anythin' but  des  happened, 
no  matter  what  folks  say,  case  you  'member 
Joe  tol'  you  so,  an'  I  ought  ter  know,  I  reckon, 
better'n  anybody." 

It  was  as  though  a  great  shadow  had  been 
lifted  from  Brevet.  Courage,  wondering  how 
to  account  for  the  little  fellow's  apparent  spirit- 
lessness  all  day,  wondered  now,  as  she  entered, 
at  the  little  illumined  face. 

"See  here,  Brevet,"  said  Joe,  smiling  a  wel- 
come to  Courage,  "  will  you  look  ober  de 


JOE  HAS  AN  IDEA.  I  o  \ 

place  while  I'se  talkin'  ter  Miss  Courage.  Go 
up  to  de  house  and  down  'roun'  General  Sher- 
idan's grave,  an'  my  oder  special  fav'rites,  an' 
see  if  eberythin'  is  bein'  kept  up  ter  de  handle, 
case  no  one  knows  as  well  as  you,  Brevet,  how 
Joe  allers  like  ter  hab  'em  kep'." 

Brevet  joyously  obeyed,  proud  to  be  sent 
on  such  an  important  errand ;  and  after  Cour- 
age and  Joe  had  exchanged  a  few  words  of 
greeting,  Joe  at  once  settled  to  the  particular 
business  in  hand. 

"  Miss  Courage,"  he  said,  very  solemnly,  "  I 
don'  b'lieve  dey's  such  anoder  mean  contempt- 
ible good  for  nothin'  darkey  in  all  dis  county 
as  I  is.  Look  at  dis  cabin  !  des  as  orderly  as 
can  be,  an'  den  'member  how  I'se  allers  treated 
Mammy.  She  ain't  nowhere  roun',  is  she?" 
raising  himself  on  one  arm  and  looking  cau- 
tiously about  the  room. 

"  No ;  Mammy  is  way  up  the  hill  yonder, 
knitting  under  the  chestnut  tree.  I  met  her 
as  I  came,  and  she  told  me  that  you  had  some- 
thing important  to  say  to  me,  and  that  she 
wouldn't  come  back  until  I  called  her." 

"  Beats  me,"  answered  Joe,  "  ter  see  Mammy 
so  considerate  an'  behavin'  hersel'  in  dis  fash- 
ion. Why,  dere  ain't  nothin'  Mammy  can 
think  of  to  make  me  mo'  comfortable  dat  she 
doesn't  up  an'  do  in  a  jiffy.  Why,  when  yo' 


102  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

Sylvy  comes  down  ebry  day  or  so,  ter  see  if 
she  can  len'  a  hand  as  you  are  so  good  as  ter 
sen'  her,  dey  ain't,  as  a  rule,  nuffin  lef  for  her 
ter  do,  'ceptin'  Mammy  set  her  ter  make  some 
little  relish  for  me  to  pay  her  fo'  de  trouble  of 
comin'.  Now  can  you  'magine,  Miss  Courage, 
how  all  dis  mak*  me  feel,  case  I'se  allers  been 
down  on  Mammy  ?  You  'member  I  neber  so 
much  as  invite  her  ter  my  Fo'th  July  dinner. 
I  allers  'spect  Grandma  Ellis  staid  away  so  as 
to  let  Mammy  think  she  was  nowise  invited 
either." 

"  But  you  mustn't  blame  yourself  too  much, 
Joe,"  Courage  interrupted,  "  for  if  I'm  not 
mistaken,  Mammy  has  been  always  rather  down 
upon  you.  No  wonder  that  she  wants  to 
make  amends.  You're  a  perfect  hero  in  all 
our  eyes  now,  Joe.  Just  think  of  the  terrible 
risk  you  ran  and  of  all  it  has  cost  you,  Joe — " 

"  'Tain't  cost  me  nuffin,  Miss  Courage,"  Joe 
said,  almost  angrily.  "  Oh,  I  des  hope  for 
Brevet's  sake  dey  won't  be  sayin'  any  such 
foolish  t'ing  as  dat.  I  happen  ter  know  dat 
Brevet  would  neber  get  over  it  if  he  thought 
he  was  'sponsible  for  me  lyin'  here  in  bed. 
No,  Miss  Courage,  dat  paralysis  des  happened 
ter  come.  I  want  it  ter  be  so  understood.  I'd 
had  the  queerest  numb  sort  o'  feelin's  creepin' 
over  me  a  whole  week  'fo'  I  took  dat  plunge 


JOE  HAS  AN  IDEA.  103 

in  de  riber — but — but,  what  I  sent  for  you  for 
am  dis:  I'se  had  a  heap  o'  time,  lyin'  heah,  an' 
I'se  been  usin'  my  eyes,  an'  sure  'nuff  I  hab 
an  idea.  You  know  your  Sylvy  ?  Well,  she 
tol'  me  dat  day  when  ole  Colonel  Anderson  an' 
all  of  you  were  at  Arlington,  an'  we  was  clearin' 
up  de  dinner  dishes,  dat  she  been  ris  up  in  an 
institution  in  Brooklyn,  an'  so  far  as  she  knew 
she  didn't  hab  a  relashun  in  de  worl'.  Now, 
do  you  happen  ter  know,  Miss  Courage,  who 
took  Sylvy  to  dat  'sylum  ?  " 

"No,  Joe;  and  I'm  quite  sure  Sylvia  once 
told  me  that  nobody  knew  ;  but  if  you  wish,  I 
can  write  and  make  some  inquiry.  But  why 
do  you  want  to  know,  Joe  ?  " 

"  Why,  case  I  b'lieve  it  isn't  de  mos'  impos- 
sible t'ing  in  de  worl'  dat  Mammy  and  Sylvy 
is  related,"  and  Joe  lowered  his  voice  to  an 
almost  imperceptible  whisper. 

"But  whatever  do  you  found  that  upon?" 
Courage  asked,  eagerly. 

"  Observation,  Miss  Courage,  an'  what  you 
might  call  human  probability,"  (Joe  was  per- 
fectly delighted  to  find  two  such  fine  long 
words  at  his  command)  "  an'  as  I  tol*  you,  I'se 
been  usin'  my  eyes  lyin'  heah,  an'  dey  has 
little  ways  an'  gestures,  Mammy  and  Sylvy, 
common  to  bof  of  'em.  Den  you  know  Mammy 
had  a  daughter  sol'  way  from  her  des  befo'  de 


104  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

wah,  an'  as  Sylvy  ain't  no  idea  what  name 
she  was  born  to,  'tain't  impossible  is  it,  dat 
she  should  be  Mammy's  gran'chile?" 

"  No,  it  isn't  impossible,  Joe,  but  I  must 
honestly  say  I  do  not  think  it  probable.  Just 
think  how  very  little  you  really  have  to  build 
upon." 

"  Mighty  little,  I  grant  you,  Miss  Courage, 
'cepting  dose  little  ways  an'  gestures ;  but 
you'll  write,  won't  you,  case  there  ain't  the 
least  harm  in  writin',  is  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  will,  Joe,  this  very  night,  but 
you  mustn't  hang  too  many  hopes  upon  it,  so 
as  not  to  be  too  much  disappointed." 

"  Dey's  hung  dere  already,  Miss  Courage," 
said  incorrigible  Joe,  "an'  I'se  not  goin' ter 
take  'em  down  till  I  has  ter." 

"  All  right,"  laughed  Courage.  "  May  I  call 
Mammy  back  now?  for  I  should  like  to  see  her 
for  awhile  before  I  go  home." 

"  Yes,  you  call  her,  an'  des  you  notice,  now 
your  'tention's  called  ter  it,  if  dere  isn't  some 
wrays  dat  'mind  you  of  Sylvy." 

And  Courage  did  notice,  and  was  really  so 
surprised  at  some  points  of  resemblance,  that 
she  wrote  her  letter  that  night  with  a  deeper 
conviction  that  they  might  be  on  the  verge  of 
a  discovery  than  she  had  that  morning  thought 
possible. 


CHAPTER  X. 

BREVET  SCORES  A  POINT. 

"  Is  anybody  going  to  die  in  this  chapter?  " 
asked  a  little  girl  who  is  very  dear  to  me,  as 
we  were  reading  aloud  last  evening.  The 
chapter  had  certainly  a  rather  ominous  title, 
and  if  any  one  was  going  to  die  she  preferred 
to  go  to  bed.  Now  if  we  had  happened  to  have 
been  reading  this  story  together,  I  am  pretty 
sure  I  should  have  met  the  same  question ;  for, 
what  with  Joe  ill  in  bed,  and  Grandma  Ellis 
ill  at  Ellismere,  and  both  of  them  pretty  old 
people,  it  does  look,  I  admit,  as  though  there 
might  be  something  sad  to  write  about  it. 
But,  happily,  for  that  happy  summer  there 
was  to  be  no  sorrowful  ending.  Grandma  Ellis 
was  soon  quite  herself  again,  and  Joe  im- 
proved so  much  that  it  seemed  as  though  he 
would  probably  be  able  to  move  about  his 
cabin  again  some  day.  And  so  everything 
would  have  been  bright  and  hopeful  enough 
save  for  this — the  time  had  come  for  Courage 
and  the  Bennetts  and  Mary  Duff  and  Sylvia 
to  go  home,  and  all  hearts  as  a  result  were  as 
heavy  as  lead.  The  Bennetts  were  eager  to 


xo6  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

see  their  father  and  mother  and  the  baby,  but 
they  did  not  want  to  go  back  to  the  great, 
crowded  city.  And  Courage — well,  she  won- 
dered what  she  possibly  could  find  to  do  at 
home  that  would  so  absorb  her  whole  thought 
and  time  as  this  Little  Homespun  household, 
and  keep  her  half  as  happy  and  contented. 
She  feared  that  when  she  went  back,  the  old 
loneliness  would  surely  come  surging  down 
upon  her,  and  that  life  without  Miss  Julia 
would  seem  again  intolerable.  She  was  think- 
ing just  such  sad  thoughts  as  these  as  she  sat 
alone  in  the  little  living-room,  stitching  away 
at  a  dress  of  Mary  Bennett's  that  needed  mend- 
ing for  the  journey  on  the  morrow.  Every 
one  but  herself  and  Mary  Duff  had  gone  up 
to  Arlington  for  a  good-bye  call  upon  Joe. 
Courage  was  not  planning  to  go  until  late  in 
the  day,  calculating  that  the  afternoon  mail 
would  surely  bring  her  some  word  from  the 
asylum  ;  and  so,  as  she  sat  alone  with  her  own 
sad  thoughts,  she  was  suddenly  surprised  by 
a  little  figure  in  the  doorway  and  a  larger  fig- 
ure looming  above  it. 

"  Where's  everybody  ?  "  asked  Brevet.  "  May 
we  come  in  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  come  in  !  "  Courage  answered, 
cordially.  "  Indeed,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  for 
I'm  as  blue  as  can  be." 


BREVET  SCORES  A  POINT.  107 

"  So  are  we,"  said  Brevet,  sitting  disconso- 
lately down  in  a  huge  armchair  that  made  him 
look  more  disconsolate  than  ever.  "  Uncle 
Harry's  hardly  spoken  to  me  all  the  way." 

Harry  made  no  denial  and  dropped  into  the 
nearest  chair. 

"And  you'll  be  bluer  still,  Brevet,  to  find 
that  no  one's  at  home,"  Courage  added. 
"  They  have  all  gone  up  to  Arlington." 

"  Well,  that  doesn't  matter,"  Brevet  replied, 
philosophically,  "  we  shall  see  them  all  to- 
morrow when  we  come  down  to  see  you  off; 
but  what  we  all  care  the  most  about  is  your 
going,  Miss  Courage.  Grand;mna  cries  every 
time  she  thinks  of  it,  and  Uncle  Harry  says  it 
will  be  just  like  a  funeral  all  the  time  for  him 
until  he  is  able  to  go  back  to  the  office,  and 
I'm  just  as  miserable  as  I  can  be." 

"  Well,  it's  very  kind  of  you  all,"  sighed 
Courage.  "  It  seems  to  me  there  never  were 
two  such  dear  places  as  Homespun  and  Ellis- 
mere,  and  you  cannot  imagine  how  I  hate  to 
leave  them." 

"  What  will  you  all  do  anyway  when  you 
get  back  to  New  York?"  Brevet  asked,  a 
little  sullenly,  as  though  he  felt  in  his  heart 
that  really  they  were  to  blame  for  going. 

"  Well,  we  are  not  going  because  we  want 
to,  Brevet,"  Courage  answered  almost  sharply, 


io8  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

for  she  was  herself  just  down-spirited  enough 
to  be  a  trifle  touchy  and  childish.  "  There  is 
no  reason  why  Mary  Duff  and  Sylvia  and  I 
should  stay  since  the  Bennetts  will  not  be 
here  to  be  cared  for." 

"  But  what  is  the  reason  for  your  going  home, 
Miss  Courage?"  asked  Brevet,  determined  to 
have  the  whole  situation  explained. 

"  Well,  Mary  Duff  is  needed  at  the  hospital, 
where  she  has  charge,  you  know,  of  a  whole 
ward  full  of  little  babies  ;  and,  as  for  Sylvia 
and  me,  our  home  is  there  you  know — we 
belong  there — and  I  shall  try  very  hard  to 
find  something  to  fill  up  all  my  time,  for  that 
is  the  only  way  for  me  to  manage  now  that  I 
no  longer  have  Miss  Julia." 

"  But  do  people  always  belong  to  just  one 
place  ?  " 

"  No,  not  always,"  Courage  was  forced  to 
admit. 

"  Well,  you  and  Brevet  seem  to  be  having 
things  all  your  own  way,"  said  Harry,  really 
speaking  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  entered. 

"  Yes ;  I  was  thinking  it  would  be  more 
polite  if  you  should  join  in  the  conversation," 
Courage  answered,  colouring  a  little,  for  she 
had  felt  annoyed  at  Harry's  apparently  moody 
silence. 

"  Well,"  he  added,  slowly,  "  I  do  not  know 


BREVET  SCORES  A  POINT.  109 

on  the  whole  that  there  is  anything  for  me  to 
say." 

"  Then  why  did  you  come  ?  " 

"Simply  to  see  you  once  more." 

"And  what  was  the  use  of  that?"  Courage 
asked,  she  hardly  knew  why. 

"  No  use,  simply  to  enjoy  the  pathetic  sort 
of  pleasure  of  all  last  times ;  but  I  do  not  my- 
self understand  why  you  could  not  have  stayed 
on  and  made  us  a  visit  ?  You  would  have  made 
my  grandmother  very  happy." 

"  Oh,  Harry,  come  off !  "  said  Brevet,  who 
had  unavoidably  acquired  a  boy's  measure  of 
slang,  and  who  was  old  enough  to  appreciate 
when  Harry  was  not  his  frank,  honest  self. 
"  That's  all  stuff  about  Grand/rana — you  want 
Miss  Courage  to  stay  for  yourself  just  as  much 
as  Grand«<zna  wants  her  for  herself  and  I  want 
her  for  myself." 

"'  Children  and  fools  speak  the  truth,'  "  said 
Harry,  looking  straight  at  Courage. 

"  Yes,  that's  the  blessed  beauty  of  them," 
looking  straight  back  at  him. 

"  Other  people  don't  dare,"  said  Harry. 

"Other  people  lack  courage." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you.  I  know  a  fellow 
who  feels  that  with  Courage  he  could  defy  the 
whole  world." 

"  Brevet,"    said  Courage,  folding    away  the 


HO  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

mended  dress,  "  there  is  a  pile  of  pictures  yon- 
der that  I  have  been  collecting  from  the  maga- 
zines and  papers  for  your  scrap-book.  Bring 
them  here  and  let  us  look  them  over." 

Brevet  was  not  to  be  diverted.  It  was  al- 
ways one  thing  at  a  time  with  him.  The  pic- 
tures could  wait — he  couldn't.  He  had  one 
or  two  questions  yet  to  ask,  and  he  came  and 
stood  beside  Courage  as  though  to  compel  her 
undivided  attention. 

"But  why  couldn't  you  visit  us?  Didn't 
you  want  to  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  have  been  glad  to  come, 
Brevet ;  I  cannot  explain  to  you  why  I 
couldn't." 

"  I  suppose  it  was  because  there  wasn't  any- 
thing particular  for  you  to  do ;  you  always 
want  to  be  doing  something.  Now,  Miss 
Courage,  I  have  heard  Grand;/#na  say  that  if 
Uncle  Harry  would  bring  a  wife  home  to 
Ellismere  some  day  she  would  give  her  all  the 
housekeeping.  Now,  don't  you  think  you 
could  come  that  way,  because  then  you  would 
have  a  great  deal  to  do?  " 

"Can  you  not  stop  this  child?"  said  Cour- 
age, turning  with  a  look  of  indignant  appeal  to 
Harry. 

"  He  is  doing  very  well,"  Harry  answered, 
without  looking  up. 


BRE  VE  T  SCORES  A  POItfT.  1 1 1 

Brevet,  intent  upon  his  own  line  of  thought, 
paid  not  the  least  attention  to  either  of  the 
last  remarks. 

"  Now,  Miss  Courage,"  resting  one  arm  on 
her  chair  and  speaking  thoughtfully  and  slowly, 
"  couldn't  you — don't  you  think  you  could — 
perhaps — be  Uncle  Harry's  wife  and  so  belong 
up  to  our  house  and  have  lots  of  things  to 
do?" 

"  Yes,  couldn't  you — perhaps?"  said  Harry, 
very  earnestly. 

Courage  gave  one  glance  toward  Harry,  and 
then  sat  gazing  straight  at  Brevet  with  a  look 
on  her  face  as  though  endeavouring  to  frame 
some  sort  of  answer ;  while  Brevet,  with  appeal 
in  his  eyes  more  eloquent  than  words,  waited 
in  solemn  silence  for  her  answer. 

"  But,  Brevet,"  she  said,  at  last,  "  are  you 
sure,  perfectly  sure  that  your  Uncle  Harry 
would  not  mind  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  sure  !  "  but  not  so  much  as  look- 
ing toward  Harry,  so  completely  did  he  re- 
gard the  matter  as  resting  wholly  between 
Courage  and  himself. 

"  Well,  then,  Brevet,  I  believe  I  could." 

Then  for  the  first  time  Brevet  showed  an 
inclination  to  include  Harry  in  the  conversa- 
tion, but  for  that  matter  he  had  to,  for  Harry 
was  close  beside  Courage  now.  "  There,"  he 


1 1 2  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

said,  with  a  great  sigh  of  relief,  "  what  did  I 
tell  you  ?  Perhaps  she  doesn't  care  enough 
to  do  it  for  you,  but  she  cares  enough  to  do  it 
for  us  all  three  together." 

"  Run,  Brevet !  "  said  Courage.  "  See,  there 
is  Mary  coming  with  the  mail.  Run,  and  bring 
it  quickly." 

Brevet  scampered  off  in  high  feather,  and 
Courage  instantly  straightened  herself  up  and 
looked  accusingly  at  Harry. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  actually 
talked  all  this  over  with  Brevet  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  never  looking  so  hand- 
some or  so  happy  in  his  life.  "  He  talked  it 
all  over  with  me.  He  seemed  to  think  it  the 
one  way  out  of  the  difficulty." 

"  And  you  knew  he  was — he  was  going  to 
say  all  this  to  me  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  so  much  as  dreamt  it  for  a 
minute,  I  assure  you,  or  that  he  was  going  to 
take  matters  into  his  own  hands.  On  the 
contrary,  I  wanted  to  come  alone  this  after- 
noon, but  come  he  would.  He  had  evidently 
thought  out  his  own  course  of  action,  and  I 
shall  bless  him  for  it  all  my  life." 


'YOU   ACTUALLY  TALKED  ALL  THIS  OVER  WITH    BREVET?' 
—Page  112. 


CHAPTER    XL 

A   RED-LETTER   AFTERNOON. 

THEY  were  a  happy  trio  that  set  out  for 
Arlington  a  half  hour  later.  Harry  and  Cour- 
age walked  closely,  side  by  side,  for  there  was 
much  to  be  said  that  could  not  by  any  chance 
have  any  interest  for  Brevet  ;  besides,  you 
could  not  have  kept  Brevet  still  enough  for 
five  seconds  together  to  listen  to  anything. 
He  was  quite  as  wild  with  joy  as  any  little 
terrier,  liberated  from  his  kennel  for  the  first 
run  over  the  hills  in  a  fortnight.  But  the  joy 
that  made  him  run  hither  and  thither,  and 
come  bounding  back  to  press  a  flower  into 
Courage's  hands,  or  simply  to  look  up  to  her 
face,  or  brush  affectionately  against  her  in 
true  terrier  fashion,  was  something  more  than 
animal  spirits.  Courage  was  coming  up  to 
Ellismere  to  live  !  Courage  was  coming!  No 
little  May-time  songster  was  ever  more  joyous 
over  the  coming  of  Spring,  and  Brevet  would 
have  trilled  as  glad  a  carol  if  he  could.  But 
of  the  three  Courage  was,  if  possible,  the  very 
happiest,  for  she  had  such  a  happy  secret  in  her 


U4  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

keeping — that  is,  in  her  pocket — for  the  mail 
had  brought  the  expected  letter.  The  secret, 
however,  must  stay  a  secret  until  she  should 
reach  Arlington  and  could  have  a  little  private 
talk  with  Joe;  and  so  she  hurried  Harry  along 
much  faster  than  was  at  all  to  his  liking,  for 
Harry  would  have  been  glad  to  have  that 
walk  last  for  "  a  year  and  a  day,"  and  so  per- 
haps would  Courage,  save  for  the  letter. 

It  was  not  that  it  contained  any  wonderful 
revelation — it  simply  said  that  unfortunately 
the  asylum  authorities  knew  nothing  more  of 
Sylvia's  antecedents  than  she  herself  knew  ; 
that  she  had  simply  been  thrust  in  at  the  asylum 
door  by  some  old  woman  who  succeeded  in 
beating  a  mysterious  retreat  into  the  darkness 
before  any  one  had  seen  her.  A  scrap  of  paper 
pinned  to  her  dress  bore  the  name  of  Sylvia, 
and  the  statement  that  the  child  had  neither 
father  nor  mother.  In  addition  to  this  the  only 
possible  clew  lay  in  two  or  three  articles  found 
at  the  time  in  Sylvia's  keeping.  They  had  been 
given  to  her  when  she  left  the  institution,  the 
matron  impressing  upon  her  the  need  and  im- 
portance of  guarding  them  carefully,  as  they 
would  possibly  prove  of  great  value  some  day. 
They  regretted  very  keenly  that  they  were 
unable  to  furnish  any  further  information. 
But,  nevertheless,  the  letter  stirred  the  first 


A  RED-LETTER  AFTERNOON.  115 

real  hope  for  Courage  that  Joe  was  right  in 
his  conjecture,  for  it  reminded  her  of  the  lit- 
tle belongings  Sylvia  had  once  shown  her — a 
coral  necklace,  a  gay  little  silver  belt  set  with 
imitation  turquoise  and  rubies  in  great  variety, 
and  a  much-used  devotional  book.  She  re- 
membered there  was  no  writing  in  the  book 
save  the  name  of  what  appeared  to  be  some 
gentleman's  country-place  and  some  date  way 
back  in  the  fifties.  She  could  not  recall  the 
name,  but  she  thought  she  would  know  it  if 
she  heard  it,  and  felt  quite  sure,  now  that  she 
came  to  think  of  it,  that  she  had  heard  a  name 
on  Mammy's  lips  that  sounded  like  it.  No 
wonder  that  something  seemed  far  more  im- 
portant just  then  than  even  her  own  great 
happiness,  and  that  she  was  impatient  to  reach 
Joe's  cabin. 

"  I  will  hurry  on,"  she  said,  when  they  came 
in  sight  of  the  cabin.  "  You  capture  Brevet, 
Harry,  and  make  him  understand  that  he 
will  be  reduced  to  the  ranks  if  he  says  one 
word  down  here  of  what  has  happened  up  at 
Homespun — your  mother  must  be  the  first 
to  know." 

"You  have  set  me  a  rather  difficult  task," 
laughed  Harry ;  but  he  saw  the  wisdom  of  it, 
and  bearing  down  upon  Brevet  he  detained 
him  an  unwilling  little  prisoner  until  he  had 


n6  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

extracted — but  slowly  and  painfully  it  must 
be  confessed — the  required  promise.  Courage 
found  the  little  cabin  full ;  that  is,  Mary  Duff, 
Sylvia  and  the  children  all  were  there  as  she 
expected,  but  a  word  to  Mammy,  to  whom 
Courage's  slightest  wish  was  law,  and  the  little 
cabin  was  cleared  in  a  twinkling,  all  hands 
finding  themselves  peremptorily  shooed  like  a 
pack  of  geese  to  the  pond  below,  under  some 
foolish  pretext  or  other. 

"  Has  the  letter  come?"  Joe  asked,  breath- 
lessly. "  Any  news  in  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  letter,"  and  Courage  drew  a 
rocking-chair  close  to  the  bed  ;  "  but  there  is 
nothing  new  in  it,  only  it  suggests  something 
to  me.  It  speaks  of  some  treasures  of  Sylvia's 
that  might  throw  a  little  light  on  the  subject. 
I  remember  now  that  Sylvia  once  showed 
them  to  me,  and  I  do  not  see  why  I  have 
been  so  stupid  as  not  to  think  of  them  before. 
They  were  a  string  of  coral  beads,  a  gay  belt 
of  some  sort,  and  a  little  devotional  book." 

"  Anythin'  written  in  de  book  ?  "  interrupted 
Joe,  his  clasped  hands  trembling  with  excite- 
ment. 

"  Nothing  much,  Joe.  We  mustn't  grow  too 
hopeful  quite  yet,  but  I  am  quite  sure  it  was 
some  name  such  as  would  belong  to  a  gentle- 
man's country-place,  and  I  think  I  should 


A  R ED-LETTER  AFTERNOON.  117 

recall  it  if  I  heard  it.  Now,  doesn't  Mammy 
sometimes  speak  of  the  plantation  where  she 
used  to  live,  by  some  name  or  other  ?  " 

"  Sunnyside,"  panted  Joe,  "  Sunnyside  ;  it's 
on  her  lips  eb'ry  day  or  two.  Do  you  t'ink — 
do  you  t'ink  dat's  it?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  dare  to  think,  Joe,  it  would  be 
so  easy  for  me  to  be  mistaken — 

"  Call  Mammy  then,  call  Sylvy,"  Joe  cried, 
excitedly,  "  call  dem  quick  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  call  them  right  away,  but,  Joe, 
we  must  all  try  to  be  calm  "  (for  she  feared 
the  effect  of  so  much  excitement).  "  You 
must  be  calm  for  your  own  sake,  Joe,  and  for 
theirs,  and  if  .we  should  chance  to  be  on  the 
verge  of  a  happy  discovery,  we  must  not  spring 
it  too  suddenly  upon  them.  Let  me  talk  to 
them  a  little  before  you  ask  Sylvia  about  the 
name." 

But  Courage  in  her  own  mind  was  quite 
joyously  sure  that  Sunnyside  was  the  name 
in  the  little  book.  Mammy  and  Sylvia  came 
in  answer  to  the  call  from  Courage — Mary  Duff 
and  the  Bennetts,  wondering  what  was  up,  re- 
mained perforce  just  as  obediently  behind. 

"Sylvia,"  said  Courage,  signalling  Joe  to  be 
quiet  for  a  moment,  "  do  you  remember  once 
showing  me  a  little  devotional  book  of  yours? 
I  was  trying  just  now  to  remember  its  name." 


n8  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

"  '  Words  of  Jesus,'  Miss  Courage." 

"  '  Words  of  Jesus/  "  said  Mammy  solemnly. 
"  Oh,  but  I  loved  dat  little  book.  My  Missus 
gave  it  to  me  years  ago,  an'  I  gave  it  to  my 
little  girl  when  she  was  sol'  away  from  me 
way  down  in  Alabama." 

"  And,  Sylvia,  there  were  some  other  little 
things,  were  there  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Courage,  a  little  string  of  coral 
beads,  and  a  tinsel  belt,  you  remember." 

Joe  and  Courage  were  looking  straight  at 
Mammy,  who,  ashy  white  under  her  dark  skin, 
leaned  against  the  foot  of  the  bed ;  but  Sylvia, 
all  intent  upon  Joe,  did  not  notice. 

"  Come  nearer,  chile,"  said  Joe,  for  his  turn 
had  come  now,  although  his  voice  all  but 
failed  him  as  he  took  Sylvia's  hand  in  his. 
"  Was  somethin'  written  in  de  little  book?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Sylvia,  her  own  voice  unsteady 
now,  for  she  knew  there  must  be  some  object 
in  all  this  questioning. 

"  Have  a  care  now,  Mammy,"  cried  Joe, 
exultingly.  "  Something  may  be  going  to 
happen,  Mammy.  Was  it  Sunnyside,  chile?  " 

"Yes,  it  was  Sunnyside,"  she  answered, 
eagerly.  "  What  do  you  know  about  it, 
Joe?" 

But  before  Joe  could  explain,  Mammy's  arms 
were  about  her  in  one  wild  ecstasy  of  delight, 


A  RED-LETTER  AFTERNOON.  119 

and  then  dropping  into  a  chair  she  drew  Sylvia 
to  her  lap. 

"  O'  course  it  was  Sunnyside,  chile  !  what 
else  could  it  be  after  yo'  sayin'  you  owned 
de  corals  an'  de  tinsel  belt?  I  gave  dem  all 
three  to  my  little  daughter  thirty  years  an' 
more  ago.  Yo'  b'longs  ter  me  !  " 

"  But,  Mammy  dear,  who  do  you  suppose  I 
am  ?  "  her  arms  close  about  Mammy's  neck. 

"Yo' my  little  gran'chile,  Honey,  my  little 
gran'chile  come  back  ter  me  after  all  dese 
years " 

"  But  how  can  you  be  sure,  Mammy?  My 
having  the  things  doesn't  surely  make  me 
your  grandchild,"  and  Sylvia  looked  as  though 
not  to  be  able  to  be  perfectly  certain  at  last 
would  quite  break  her  heart. 

"Sure  by  eb'ryt'ing  'bout  you,  Honey;  by 
yo'  face,  by  yo'  hands,  by  de  way  you  walk, 
by  yo'  ebery  motion,  by  de  way  you  drink 
a  cup  o'  tea.  Maria  was  jus'  about  yo'  age 
when  she  was  sol'  away  from  me,  an'  some- 
times you've  so  much  'minded  me  of  her  I 
could  scarce  bear  to  look  at  you,  neber 
dreamin'  you  could  possibly  b'long  ter  me. 
But,  Sylvy,"  and  Mammy's  voice  at  once 
grew  troubled  with  the  thought  that  occurred 
to  her,  "  why  hab  you  neber  done  try  to  fin' 
yo'  own  people,  chile  ?  " 


120  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

"Why,  Mammy!  I  knew  nothing  about 
myself  at  all.  I  was  just  pushed  into  the  door 
of  a  coloured  orphan  asylum  in  Brooklyn, 
when  I  was  a  little  bit  of  a  girl,  by  a  very  old 
woman  I  remember,  and  I  never  saw  or  heard 
of  her  again.  There  was  a  little  piece  of  paper 
pinned  on  to  my  dress  which  merely  said, 
'  This  little  girl  hasn't  got  any  father  or 
mother,'  and  that  my  name  was  Sylvia." 

"Then  yof  mamma's  daid,  is  she?"  said 
Mammy  in  a  low  voice,  as  though  speaking  to 
herself.  "  I  wonder  who  she  married  an'  how 
she  drifted  'way  up  North,  an'  why  she  never 
wrote  to  her  old  Mammy — but  we'll  never 
know  in  dis  woiT,  will  we,  Honey  ? — but  no 
matter,  no  matter,  we's  got  each  oder  now, 
Sylvy,"  and  Mammy  stroked  Sylvia's  hair  with 
one  trembling  hand,  as  the  happy  realisation 
chased  all  the  sadness  from  her  face.  "  Maria 
coaxed  that  little  belt  from  me,"  she  contin- 
ued, never  one  moment  taking  her  eyes  from 
Sylvia's  face,  "  one  day  long  'fo'  she  was  sol' 
from  me.  My  Missus  had  given  it  to  me 
when  I  was  jus'  a  slip  of  a  girl.  She  gave  me 
the  dear  book  too,  but  I  put  that  into  Maria's 
pocket  an'  begged  her  to  read  it  now  an* 
again,  cause  Maria  allers  seemed  too  light- 
hearted  to  give  much  'tention  to  religion. 
Seems  as  d'ough  I  could  hardly  wait,  Sylvy, 


A  RED-LETTER  AFTERNOON.  12 1 

to  lay  my  eyes  on  d'ose  little  keepsakes  once 
more.  An',  Sylvy  chile,  do  you  'member 
what  you  said  first  words  you  spoke  ter  me 
an'  Joe  ?  You  said,  '  I  thought  I  should  find 
some  of  my  own  people  down  here  in  Vir- 
ginia.' 'Lor,  chile,  you  didn't  dream  what 
gospel  trufes  you  were  speakin'." 

Meantime  Harry  and  Brevet  had  appeared 
upon  the  scene,  and  astonished  beyond  meas- 
ure at  what  they  saw  and  heard,  sat  down  on 
a  bench  beside  the  door  and  listened  in  mute 
wonder. 

"  But  who,"  said  Mammy  at  last,  when  she 
could  bring  her  confused  thoughts  into  some 
sort  of  order,  and  with  Sylvia  still  seated 
upon  her  lap,  "  who  was  de  one  to  find  all  dis 
out  for  me?"  turning  toward  Courage  for  an 
explanation.  But  Courage  simply  looked  to- 
ward Joe  for  answer. 

"  Yes,  Mammy,"  replied  Joe,  leaning  com- 
fortably back  against  his  pillows,  the  embodi- 
ment of  dusky  radiance,  "  I  has  dat  honour, 
Mammy.  Lyin'  here  so  helpless  when  I  was 
first  brought  back  ter  de  cabin,  an'  watchin1 
you  an'  Sylvy  move  roun'  de  room  togeder, 
it  came  home  ter  me  how  you  took  after  each 
oder  in  a  hundred  little  ways,  an'  den  'mem- 
berin'  how  Sylvy  had  tol'  me  one  day  how  she 
knew  nothin'  'bout  who  b'longed  ter  her,  it 


122  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

des  'spicioned  me  dat  she  might  b'long  to  you, 
an'  so  Miss  Courage  here,  she  wrote  up  to  de 
'sylum  an'  de  answer  des  come  dis  bery  after- 
noon. But  o'  co'se,  as  you  know  from  Sylvy, 
dey  couldn't  tell  us  nuffin,  but  ter  'mind  Miss 
Courage  of  de  little  treasures  Sylvy  had  in  her 
possession,  an'  den  Miss  Courage  'minded  how 
Sylvy  had  once  showed  dem  to  her  an'  how 
dere  was  somethin'  written  in  de  little  book, 
but  o'  co'se  we  could  not  des  be  sure  it  was  de 
same  name  as  de  ole  plantation  whar  you  lived 
till  we  sent  for  Sylvy  an'  asked  her.  An'  oh  ! 
but  it's  a  happy  day  for  Joe  ;  de  happiest  day 
in  all  my  life,  an'  it's  all  come  of  me  being 
par'lysed  an'  havin'  a  chance  ter  notice,"  and 
Joe  spoke  as  though  the  paralysis  was  unques- 
tionably something  for  which  he  had  need  to 
be  devoutly  thankful. 

"Joe,"  said  Mammy,  who  had  left  her  chair 
and  was  standing  close  at  his  bedside,  "  I'se 
been  hard  on  you  an'  unfair  to  you  mos'  o'  my 
life,  Joe,"  and  she  stood  looking  down  as 
shamefacedly  as  any  little  school  culprit. 

"Don't  you  say  nuffin,  Mammy.  Hasn't  I 
allers  been  hard  on  you  an'  unfair  to  you  ?  " 

"  Don't  either  of  you  say  anything,"  inter- 
rupted Courage.  "If  ever  two  people  in  this 
world  have  made  up  for  bygones,  I  think  you 
two  people  have,"  and  Joe  and  Mammy  shook 


A  RED-LETTER  AFTERNOON.  123 

their  old  heads  in  assent,  for  happily  for  them 
both  they  knew  that  Courage  had  spoken  but 
the  truth. 

Meantime  Brevet  had  slipped  away  and  had 
enjoyed  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  telling  Mary 
Duff  and  the  Bennetts  the  wonderful  news, 
whereupon  they  had  of  course  hurried  pell- 
mell  up  to  the  cabin  and  joined  in  the  general 
jubilation.  It  was  well-nigh  sunset  before  the 
good-byes  were  said — those  last  good-byes 
they  had  come  for  the  purpose  of  saying — and 
before  they  were  all  started  on  their  walk  home. 

Then  Courage  turned  to  Harry. 

"  I  think  I  will  run  back  and  just  tell  Joe 
and  Mammy — 

"  Tell  all  the  world,"  said  Harry,  proudly, 
"  the  sooner  the  better." 

A  few  minutes  later  Courage  appeared  in 
the  cabin  doorway. 

"  Come  here,"  she  said,  motioning  to  Mammy 
and  hurrying  to  Joe's  side.  "There's  another 
secret  in  the  wind  this  afternoon,  and  I  want 
to  tell  it  to  both  of  you  myself.  I  think  I 
shall  come  down  here  to  live  for  good  and  all 
before  very  long " 

"  De  Lord  be  praised  !  "  ejaculated  Joe  and 
Mammy  in  one  breath. 

"  And  I'm  coming  because  I  am  going  to 
marry  Harry  Ellis :' 


124  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

"  'Tis  de  Lord's  own  doin's,"  cried  Joe,  fer- 
vently, "for  we  all  need  you." 

"  And  never  you  fear  but  Sylvia  will  live 
here  too,"  said  Courage,  turning  radiantly  to 
Mammy.  Then  in  a  flash  she  was  gone  to 
hurry  after  the  little  party  over  the  road. 
With  Harry  and  Brevet,  Courage  went  straight 
up  to  Ellismere  that  night  to  see  Grandma 
Ellis,  and  then  another  dear  old  heart  was 
gladdened  beyond  all  words  by  the  good  news 
she  had  to  tell.  The  next  day  Courage  went 
back  to  town  with  the  Bennetts,  leaving  Syl- 
via to  stay  with  Mammy  until  she  should  re- 
turn, and  Courage  was  to  return  before  very 
long.  A  good  deal  had  been  talked  over  and 
arranged  for  in  the  evening  spent  at  Ellismere, 
and  among  other  things  that  there  should  be 
a  wedding  at  Little  Homespun  late  in  Octo- 
ber. By  that  time,  probably,  Joe  would  be 
able  to  drive  up  from  Arlington,  and  Colonel 
Anderson  would  come  down  from  Washing- 
ton, and  Courage  knew  that  the  Everetts  and 
a  few  other  dear  friends  would  come  down 
just  as  gladly  from  New  York,  and  another 
matter  that  had  been  as  fully  agreed  upon 
was,  that  although  Courage's  home  was  to  be 
at  Ellismere  for  the  winter,  she  and  Harry 
should  move  up  to  Little  Homespun  the  com- 
ing summer,  and  Mary  Duff  should  bring 


A  RED-LETTER  AFTERNOON.  125 

down  some  other  party  of  little  city-children 
to  run  wild  and  enjoy  all  the  delights  of  the 
unknown  country  just  as  the  little  Bennetts 
had  done. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  there  was  no  real 
sadness  in  the  good-byes  which  were  said  on 
the  morrow — even  the  Bennetts  found  they 
were  glad  to  go,  now  it  came  to  the  point,  for 
when  all  is  said,  home  is  home  the  world  over. 
Harry  and  Brevet  drove  up  to  Washington 
to  see  the  little  party  off  and  then  drove  back 
to  Ellismere,  not  saying  much  to  each  other 
by  the  way,  but  both  very  contented  and 
happy.  Brevet  was  humming  his  own  favour- 
ite air,  as  in  all  serene  and  quiet  moods,  until 
at  last  as  though  to  give  vent  to  the  joy  within 
him  he  broke  into  the  old  wrords, — • 

"  I'se  a  little  Alabama  Coon 
I  hasn't  been  born  very  long " 

"  Right  you  are,"  laughed  Harry,  interrupt- 
ing, "  and  a  dear  little  coon  into  the  bargain, 
and  who  has  been  born  quite  long  enough  to 
make  the  time  tell." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Brevet,  with 
puzzled  frown. 

"  Oh,  I  mean  you've  been  born  long  enough 
to  accomplish  quite  a  great  deal,  on  the  whole, 


126  LITTLE  HOMESPUN. 

and  the  finest  work  you  ever  put  in  was  up  at 
Little  Homespun  yesterday." 

"You  mean  about  asking  Miss  Courage  to 
come  back  ?  " 

"  Exactly.  I  think  your  name  will  always 
stick  to  you  now — I'm  sure  I  shall  never  call 
you  by  any  other — 

"You  mean  my  name,  Brevet?" 

"Yes." 

"  But  why  ?  I  do  not  quite  understand," 
for  Brevet's  ideas  had  really  grown  a  little 
hazy  as  to  the  full  meaning  of  his  name. 

"  Why,  Joe  gave  you  the  name,  you  remem- 
ber, because  that  is  a  title  given  in  the  army 
simply  as  a  reward  of  merit.  You  have  the 
honour,  that  is,  of  being  a  captain  without  the 
responsibility.  Now  it  seems  to  me  the  title 
belongs  to  you  more  than  ever  since  yesterday 
afternoon.  You  sailed  right  in  and  have  won 
all  the  glory  of  persuading  Miss  Courage  to 
come  back  to  Virginia,  but  I  do  not  see  that  you 
have  assumed  a  grain  of  responsibility.  It  is  a 
serious  thing  to  have  induced  her  to  exchange 
her  home  for  ours.  Now  who's  going  to  see 
when  she  comes  that  she's  always  perfectly 
happy  and  contented,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"  You  are  the  one  to  see  to  that,  Uncle 
Harry.  Isn't  that  what  husbands  have  to  do  ? 
Besides,  I  don't  think  it's  fair  to  blame  me 


A  RED-LETTER  AFTERNOON.  127 

when  you  yourself  wanted  her  so  much  to 
come." 

"  Blame  !  bless  your  dear  little  heart !  who 
thought  of  blame  for  a  minute  ?  Irresponsible 
little  rascal  though  you  be,  you  have  earned 
your  proud  title  and  Brevet  you  shall  be  to 
the  end  of  the  chapter." 

Brevet  did  not  quite  understand  this  either, 
but  that  did  not  matter.  He  knew  that  he 
had  succeeded  in  making  everybody  very 
happy,  Uncle  Harry  in  particular,  and  for  the 
present  that  was  quite  enough  to  know  and  to 
understand. 


THE  END. 


COURAGE 

By  RUTH  OGDEN 

THIRD  EDITION 

J* 

JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION— Boston. 

"  Ruth  Ogden  will  be  remembered  as  the  author  of 
that  beautiful  little  Revolutionary  story,  A  Loyal  Little 
Red  Coat,  so  popular  last  year.  The  "  Courage  "  of 
this  story  is  not  at  all  the  thing  one  would  first  imagine, 
but  a  brown-eyed,  rosy-cheeked  litt'e  lady  of  a  dozen 
summers.  The  story  of  Courage's  li  ^  and  adventures 
among  the  wharves  and  floating  homes  on  the  water 
side  of  New  York,  and  how  she  proved  herself  to  be 
well  named,  is  told  in  the  same  direct,  unaffected,  ana 
refined  way  which  has  made  all  this  author's  books  so 
delightful.'  The  illustrations  are  exceedingly  pretty." 

PUBLIC  LEDGER-Philadelphia. 

"  Deserves  high  rank  as  a  piece  of  juvenile  fiction." 

THE  CALL— San  Francisco,  Cal. 

"  A  charming  story  written  in  a  most  charming  manner." 

REVIEW  OF  REVIEWS. 

"  A  touching  story  of  child  life  by  a  graceful  writer 
...  It  is  a  good  specimen  of  the  beautiful  wholesome 
books  now  provided  by  the  best  writers  and  publishers 
for  the  delight  of  the  rising  generation." 

THE  STANDARD— Chicago,  IIL 

"  The  telling  of  the  story  is  simply  delightful." 


With  twenty  original  illustrations  by  FREDERICK  C.  GORDON 
and  GEORGE  T.  TOBIN,  beautifully  executed. 

lamo,  full  brown  cover,  with  tasteful  design  in  silver,  gold 
and  colored  inks, $[-25 

Half  white  cloth,  with  fancy  paper  sides,       -        -  1.25 

j* 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY, 

Publishers,  New  York. 


A  Little  Queen  of  Hearts 

By  RUTH  OGDEN 


HOME  JOURNAL—  Boston,  Mass. 

"  Ruth  Ogden,  a  fully  established  favorite  with  the 
little  people,  has  written  for  them  a  story  that  eclipses 
all  her  former  efforts,  as  good  as  they  have  invariably 
been.  .  .  .  Fully  as  charming  is  her  story  as  is  that 
of  the  immortal  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy,  yet  Marie- 
Celeste  is  entirely  an  original  character." 

AMERICAN—  Baltimore,  Md. 

"  After  reading  every  line  of  A  Little  Queen  of  Hearts— 
carefully  examining  its  artistic  qualities  and  studying 
closely  its  various  characters  —  we  think  it  the  sweetest 
story  Ruth  Ogden  has  ever  written." 

POST-DESPATCH—  St.  Louis,  Mo. 

"  One  of  those  singularly  charming  stories  with  which 
the  author  delights  little  folks." 


With  nearly  sixty  half-tone  engravings,  after  original  de- 
signs by  H.  A.  OGDEN.  Uniform  in  size  -with  the  author's 
popular  rvork,  "  A  Loyal  Little  Red  Coat." 

i  vol.,  4to,  green  cloth,  with  frame  enclosing  white  panel,  on 
which  appears  the  portrait  of  the  "  Little  Queen  of  Hearts," 
and  with  title  and  attractive  design  stamped  in  gold,  $1.50 

Ermine  binding,  with  back  and  half  sides  of  white  vellum 
cloth  stamped  to    represent  "ermine,"  and  with  outer  half 
sides  of  red  cloth,        -        -        -        -        -        -        -        $1.50 

& 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY, 

Publishers,  New  York. 


A  Loyal  Little  Red  Coat 

By  RUTH  OGDEN 

FOURTH  EDITION 

J* 

ADVERTISER— Boston,  Mass. 

"  No  book  for  children  more  thoroughly  delightful  has 
been  published  this  year." 

LITERARY  WORLD— Boston,  Mass. 

"  This  is  precisely  such  a  book  as  American  children 
need.     The  story  is  charmingly  written  and  illustrated, 
and  the  historical  matter  of  the  story,  while  carefully 
studied,  is  not  dragged  in,  but  falls  naturally  into  the 
order  of  the  plot." 
THE  TIMES— Boston,  Mass. 

"  The  story  is  entertaining  from  beginning  to  end,  is 
brightly   told,  and   the    true   pictures  of   the  now  old- 
fashioned  customs  and  costumes  are  fascinating." 

^ 

A  Story  of  Child-life  in  New  York  a  Hundred  Years  Ago. 
With  more  than  sixty  vignette  illustrations  after  original  de- 
signs by  H.  A.  OGDEN,  the  well-known  delineator  of  American 
life  in  colonial  times. 

Illustrated  in  a  profuse  and  beautiful  manner,  such  as  has 
not  been  attempted  previously  in  any  similar  book  for  young 
people. 

I    volume,  4to,  in  a   most  beautiful    and    unique    binding; 
cloth,  with   frame  enclosing  white  panel,  on  which  appear  the 
figures  of  the  "Little  Red-Coat  "  and  a  soldier  in  a  full  uni- 
form, .......  $1.50 

Jt 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY, 

Publishers,  New  York. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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